MRS.  SIGOURNEY'S  LETTERS  TO  MOTHERS. 


From  the  Daily  Courant,  Hartford,  Conn. 
"  Mrs.  Sigourney  has  published  a  new  work,  under  the  title  of 
'  Letters  to  Mothers.'  The  sentiments  and  principles  inculcated 
in  these  letters,  like  everything  from  the  pen  of  this  amiable,  in- 
telligent, and  excellent  woman,  are  practical,  useful,  and  imbued 
with  the  spirit  of  pure  morality  and  elevated  piety.  Mrs.  Sig- 
ourney's  standard  is  found  in  the  Bible.  All  her  didactic  works 
have  an  immediate  reference  to  the  religion  of  the  Bible  ;  and 
none  of  her  writings  disclose  a  sentiment  or  a  doctrine  that  is 
not  founded  upon  the  immoveable  basis  of  genuine  Christianity. 
We  have  no  doubt  that  this  will  prove  to  be  one  of  the  most  pop- 
ular of  her  works." 


From  the  Connecticut  Observer,  Hartford. 
" '  Letters  to  Mothers,'  by  Mrs.  Sigourney,  is,  if  we  mistake 
not,  destined  to  be  one  of  the  most  useful,  as  it  is  one  of  the  best 
written  and  most  interesting  productions  of  the  accomplished  au- 
thor. It  is  a  gift  to  mothers,  which  they  cannot  fail  to  appreciate, 
and  for  which  they  will  not  be  slow  to  be  grateful.  While  its 
subjects  are  treated  in  a  manner  intelligible  to  readers  of  every 
class,  the  polished  style,  the  classical  allusions,  and  the  rich  senti- 
ments will  win  its  way  to  families  of  the  highest  intelligence  and 
refinement ;  and  in  many  such  circles  will  diffuse  a  deep  feeling 
of  responsibility,  and  a  strong  regard  to  moral  cultivation." 


From  the  New-  York  American. 

"  The  last  two  productions  of  Mrs.  Sigourney's  pen  have  prob- 
ably been  the  most  useful  productions  of  the  day,  and  will  retain 
their  rank  among  the  chosen  volumes  of  every  domestic  library, 
perpetuating  the  virtue  which  cherishes  them.  The  great  charm 
of  these  writings  is,  that  while  others  are  striving  to  fill  the  head 
with  new  ideas,  by  familiar  treatises  on  subjects  in  themselves 
abstruse,  these  attempt,  with  success,  the  culture  of  the  heart. 
We  cannot  too  earnestly  recommend  to  mothers  eagerly  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  privilege  of  reading  and  enjoying  these  letters." 


2  SIGOURNEY'S  LETTERS  TO  MOTHERS. 

From  the  Churchman,  New-  York. 

"  Several  books  on  education  have  lately  issued  from  the  press, 
none  of  which  will  be  read  by  mothers  with  as  much  pleasure  as 
this  volume  of  Letters,  peculiarly  addressed  to  them.  The  author 
writes  as  one  who  loves  her  subject,  and  appreciates  its  impor- 
tance ;  and  she  has  enlivened  her  work  with  such  a  variety  of 
illustration  as  could  flow  only  from  a  well-stored  and  accom- 
plished mind.  There  are  few,  we  believe,  of  that  class  of  readers 
for  whom  the  work  is  especially  designed,  that  may  not  receive 
from  it  valuable  hints,  be  impressed  by  it  with  a  higher  sense  of 
their  responsibilities,  and  animated,  at  the  same  time,  in  the  dis- 
charge of  them." 


From  the  New-  Yorker. 

"  The  '  Letters  to  Mothers,'  just  published,  we  must  regard  as 
one  of  the  noblest,  if  not  the  most  aspiring  effort,  of  Mrs.  Sig- 
ourney's  gifted  mind.  Its  lessons  seem  to  come  directly  from  the 
heart,  and  no  mother  can  peruse  them  without  being  deeply  af- 
fected, as  well  as  edified.  They  overflow  with  genuine  poetry 
and  Christian  love.  Not  alone  by  mothers,  they  may  be  read  by 
children  also,  with  great  interest  and  profit ;  and  every  pure  mind 
will  delight  in  their  fair  pages  of  blended  anecdote  and  precept. 
Need  we  urge  that  this  work  should  be  everywhere  diffused  and 
studied  1" 


From  the  Boston  Weekly  Magazine. 

"  Mrs.  Sigourney's  '  Letters  to  Mothers'  present,  in  a  most  at- 
tractive form,  the  privileges  and  enjoyments,  the  duties,  cares,  and 
consolations  of  maternal  life.  This  excellent  book  cannot  be  read 
without  profit  by  any  one  who  is  in  any  way  concerned  in  the 
management  of  children.  A  vein  of  deep,  strong  feeling  runs 
through  the  work,  giving  it  an  interest  which  it  could  not  other- 
wise possess.  The  affectionate  mother,  the  humble  Christian,  the 
lofty  aspirations  of  a  spirit  accustomed  to  look  beyond  the  present 
scene,  are  everywhere  observable,  while  a  rich  and  even  poetic 
flow  of  diction  gives  vigour  and  zest  to  the  style." 


SIGOURNEY'S  LETTERS  TO  MOTHERS. 

From  the  United  States  Gazette,  Philadelphia. 
"  It  is  delightful,  among  the  numerous  volumes  which  the  press 
is  daily  and  almost  hourly  pouring  forth,  to  meet  occasionally  with 
works  emanating  from  the  holy  principle  of  rendering  the  human 
family  wiser  and  better,  works  which  cannot  be  read  by  young  or 
old  without  profit.  Of  this  class,  we  have  gone  through,  with 
singular  pleasure,  the  book  whose  title  is  prefixed  to  this  article. 
It  contains  as  great  a  mass  of  excellence,  with  as  little  alloy,  as 
probably  any  book  extant,  and  is  from  the  pen  of  the  amiable  Mrs. 
Sigourney,  whose  talents  have  been  for  years  devoted  to  the  best 
of  all  purposes,  the  promotion  of  human  virtue,  and  its  concomi- 
tant, human  happpiness.  No  woman,  married  or  single,  ought  to 
be  without  a  copy  of  this  work,  the  rules  of  which  would  be  an 
admirable  guide  in  all  the  various  situations  in  which  her  sex  are 
placed." 

From  the  Boston  Recorder. 

"  Are  there  mothers  among  us  who  have  not  possessed  them- 
selves of  this  precious  manual,  and  who  still  desire  to  be  enlight- 
ened and  guided  in  the  discharge  of  their  momentous  duties'? 
Let  them  take  it ;  study  it ;  pray  over  it ;  and  store  away  its  vast 
fund  of  invaluable  maxims  and  hints  in  some  department  of  the 
mind,  whence  they  may  be  readily  drawn  forth  for  daily  use. 
The  writings  of  Mrs.  Sigourney  are  of  a  class  that  needs  no  rec- 
ommendation other  than  they  carry  along  with  them  wherever 
they  go.  The  gentle  and  elevated  piety,  that  breathes  from  every 
page ;  the  matured  thought,  that  enriches  every  paragraph ;  the 
simplicity  and  beauty,  that  marks  every  sentence,  give  them  a  sort 
of  fascination,  which  defies  criticism,  and  allures  the  reader,  irre- 
sistibly, from  step  to  step,  till  at  length  he  finds  himself,  too  soon, 
at  the  point  where  his  instructor  bids  him  farewell.  Let  every 
father  supply  the  mother  of  his  children  with  this  volume,  and 
master  its  contents  himself,  that  he  may  be  prepared  to  discuss  its 
main  topics  familiarly  and  thoroughly  with  the  companion  of  his 
life,  for  their  mutual  benefit  in  the  business  common  to  them  both, 
of  educating  their  offspring  for  usefulness  and  heaven." 


4  SIGOURNEY'S  LETTERS  TO  MOTHERS. 

From  the  Christian  Witness,  Boston. 

"  The  mothers  of  our  country — our  country  itself— will  be  more 
indebted  to  Mrs.  Sigourney  for  the  truths  which  she  has  taught, 
for  the  interest  which  she  will  have  awakened,  in  one  of  the  most 
momentous  of  our  concerns,  than  even  for  the  rich  beauties  in 
which  she  has  dressed,  and  by  which  she  has  enlivened  her  subject. 
If  the  book  were  in  the  hands  of  every  American  mother,  and  if 
its  truths  were  carefully  studied,  cordially  embraced,  and  faithfully 
practised,  it  would  do  more,  the  divinely  instituted  means  of  grace 
alone  excepted,  more,  perhaps,  than  any  one  book,  in  elevating, 
improving,  and  blessing  the  whole  population  of  our  country. 
What  other  class  of  beings  in  the  land,  taken  as  a  class,  are  of 
such  unspeakable  importance  as  that  addressed  by  Mrs.  Sigour- 
ney 1  What  class  wield  so  deep,  so  permanent,  so  universal  an 
influence  as  they  1  And  if,  as  a  body,  they  were  to  embrace 
right  views  of  their  station,  their  responsibilities,  and  their  influ- 
ence, and  faithfully  to  act  in  carrying  those  views  into  practice, 
what  other  class  could  do  such  widespread,  such  everlasting  good, 
to  the  interests  and  to  the  institutions  of  the  American  people  1 
Let  the  mothers  of  the  land  combine  to  do  their  duty  to  the  bod- 
ies and  souls  of  their  immortal  offspring,  and  they  would  be  an 
unorganized  association  indeed,  but,  still,  a  more  powerful  associ- 
ation for  good  than  any  other  in  existence  without  a  divine  con- 
stitution. In  truth,  it  would  be  a  divinely  constituted  society, 
carrying  in  its  very  being  the  seal  of  a  charter  from  God. 

"  We  should  like  to  enter  into  a  more  particular  analysis  of 
these  '  Letters  to  Mothers.'  But  perhaps  what  we  have  said 
may  be  as  effectual  as  such  an  analysis  would  be,  in  calling  atten- 
tion to  its  contents.  We  would  commend  the  whole  to  faithful 
study.  It  abounds  in  distinct  subjects  of  thought,  many  of  which 
are  as  important  to  the  father  as  to  the  mother,  and  all  of  which 
lead  into  the  very  depths,  the  secret  places,  the  hidden  springs  of 
human  interests  and  of  human  happiness." 


RECENTLY    PUBLISHED, 

LETTERS  TO  YOUNG  LADIES.    BY  MRS.  SIGOURNEY. 
Seventh  Edition. 


LETTERS 


TO 


MOTHERS. 


MRS.  L.  H.  SIGOURNEY. 


t  \ 

SECOND    EDITION. 


NEW  YORK: 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS,   CLIFF  STREET. 

1839. 


..Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1838,  by 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New-York.] 


3 

INDEX 


PAGE 

PREFACE.    .  .    .     7 


LETTER   I. 
PRIVILEGES  OF  THE  MOTHER. 


LETTER    II. 
INFLUENCE  OF  CHILDREN  UPON  PARENTS.    .   18 


LETTER    III. 
INFANCY. 


LETTER    IV. 
FIRST  LESSONS. 


LETTER   V. 
MATERNAL  LOVE 45 

LETTER  VI. 
HABIT.      .    .  .54 


631091 


LETTER    VII. 
HEALTH 68 


LETTER    VIII. 
ECONOMY.  .  .   84 


LETTER    IX. 
EARLY  CULTURE.  .  93 


LETTER    X. 
DOMESTIC  EDUCATION.   .  .105 


LETTER   XI. 
IDIOM  OF  CHARACTER  .....    ,Jfc«.  *.   .    .  121 


LETTER   XII. 
SCHOOLS.  .  139 


LETTER    XIII. 
RELIGIOUS  INSTRUCTION.  .  .151 


LETTER    XIV. 
DUTY  TO  THE  COMMUNITY.   .  .170 


LETTER    XV. 
READING  AND  THINKING.  .  .    .181 


LETTER    XVI. 
EXAMPLE.    .  .  190 


LETTER   XVII. 
OPINION  OF  WEALTH.  . 


LETTER   XVIII. 
HOSPITALITY 222 

LETTER    XIX 
RESPECT  TO  AGE 231 

LETTER   XX. 
HAPPINESS 239 

LETTER    XXI. 
ADVERSITY.    .  .252 


LETTER    XXII. 
LOSS  OF  CHILDREN.  .  261 


LETTER    XXIII. 
SICKNESS  AND  DECLINE.     ,  .274 


LETTER   XXIV. 
DEATH. 


I 


,• 
PREFACE, 

ADDRESSED    TO    MOTHERS. 

You  are  sitting  with  your  child  in  your  arms.  So 
am  I.  And  I  have  never  been  as  happy  before.  Have 
you  ?  How  this  new  affection  seems  to  spread  a  soft, 
fresh  green  over  the  soul.  Does  not  the  whole  heart 
blossom  thick  with  plants  of  hope,  sparkling  with 
perpetual  dew-drops?  What  a  loss,  had  we  passed 
through  the  world  without  tasting  this  purest,  most 
exquisite  fount  of  love. 

Now,  how  shall  we  bring  up  this  babe,  which  Heaven 
hath  lent  us?  Great  need  have  we  to  repeat  the 
question  of  the  father  of  Samson,  to  the  angel  who 
announced  his  birth,  "  how  shall  we  order  the  child  ?" 
Surely,  we  shall  unite  with  fervour  in  his  supplication 
to  the  Father  of  Angels,  "  teach  us  what  we  shall  do 
unto  the  child  ?" 

Are  you  a  novice?  I  am  one  also.  Let  us  learn 
together.  The  culture  of  young  minds,  in  their  more 
advanced  stages,  has  indeed  been  entrusted  to  me, 
and  I  have  loved  the  office.  But  never  before  have 
I  been  so  blest,  as  to  nurture  the  infant,  when  as  a 


germ  quickened  by  Spring,  it  opens  the  folding-doors 
of  its  little  heart,  and  puts  forth  the  thought,  the  pre- 
ference, the  affection,  like  filmy  radicles,  or  timid  ten- 
drils, seeking  where  to  twine. 

Ah !  how  much  have  we  to  learn,  that  we  may 
bring  this  beautiful  and  mysterious  creature  to  the 
light  of  knowledge,  the  perfect  bliss  of  immortality ! 
Hath  any  being  on  earth  a  charge  more  fearfully 
important  than  that  of  the  Mother  1  God  help  us  to 
be  faithful,  in  proportion  to  the  immensity  of  our 
trust. 

The  soul,  the  soul  of  the  babe,  whose  life  is  nou- 
rished by  our  own  !  Every  trace  that  we  grave  upon 
it,  will  stand  forth  at  the  judgment,  when  the  "  books 
are  opened."  Every  waste-place,  which  we  leave 
through  neglect,  will  frown  upon  us,  as  an  abyss, 
when  the  mountains  fall,  and  the  skies  shrivel  like 
a  scroll.  Wherever  we  go,  let  us  wear  as  a  signet- 
ring,  "the  child!  the  child!"  Amid  all  the  musick 
of  life,  let  this  ever  be  the  key-tone,  "the  soul  of 
our  child." 

L.  H.  S. 


LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 


LETTER    I. 

PRIVILEGES    OF   THE   MOTHER. 

MY  FRIEND,  if  hi  becoming  a  mother,  you  have 
reached  the  climax  of  your  happiness,  you  have  also 
taken  a  higher  place  in  the  scale  of  being.  A  most 
important  part  is  allotted  you,  in  the  economy  of  the 
great  human  family.  Look  at  the  gradations  of  your 
way  onward ;  your  doll,  your  playmates,  your  les- 
sons ;  perhaps  to  decorate  a  beautiful  person ;  to 
study  the  art  of  pleasing ;  to  exult  in  your  own  at- 
tractions ;  to  feed  on  adulation ;  to  wear  the  garland 
of  love;  and  then  to  introduce  into  existence  a  being 
never  to  die ;  and  to  feel  your  highest,  holiest  ener- 
gies enlisted  to  lit  it  for  this  world  and  the  next. 
,  No  longer  will  you  now  live  for  self;  no  longer 
j  be  noteless  and  unrecorded,  passing  away  without 
1  name  or  memorial  among  the  people.  It  can  no 
more  be  reproachfully  said  of  you,  that  "you  lend 
all  your  graces  to  the  grave,  and  keep  no  copy." 


10  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

•* 

"  My  cousin  Mary  of  Scotland  hath  a  fair  son  born 
unto  her,  and  I  am  but  a  dead  tree,"  said  Queen 
Elizabeth,  while  the  scowl  of  discontent  darkened 
her  brow.  In  bequeathing  your  own  likeness  to  the 
world,  you  will  naturally  be  anxious  to  array  it  in 
that  beauty  of  virtue,  which  fades  not  at  the  touch  of 
time.  What  a  scope  for  your  exertions,  to  render 
your  representative,  an  honour  to  its  parentage,  and 
a  blessing  to  its  country. 

You  have  gained  an  increase  of  power.  The  in- 
fluence which  is  most  truly  valuable,  is  that  of  mind 
over  mind.  How  entire  and  perfect  is  this  dominion, 
over  the  unformed  character  of  your  infant.  Write 
what  you  will,  upon  that  printless  tablet,  with  your 
wand  of  love.  Hitherto,  your  influence  over  your 
dearest  friend,  your  most  submissive  servant,  has 
known  bounds  and  obstructions.  Now,  you  have 
over  a  new-born  immortal,  almost  that  degree  of 
power  which  the  mind  exercises  over  the  body,  and 
which  Aristotle  compares  to  the  "  sway  of  a  prince 
over  a  bond-man."  The  period  of  this  influence 
must  indeed  pass  away;  but  while  it  lasts,  make 
good  use  of  it. 

Wise  men  have  said,  and  the  world  begins  to  be- 
lieve, that  it  is  the  province  of  woman  to  teach.  You 
then,  as  a  mother,  are  advanced  to  the  head  of  that 
profession.  I  congratulate  you.  You  hold  that 
license  which  authorizes  you  to  teach  always.  You 
have  attained  that  degree  in  the  College  of  Instruc- 


PRIVILEGES   OF   THE    MOTHER.  11 

tion,  by  which  your  pupils  are  continually  in  your 
presence,  receiving  lessons  whether  you  intend  it  or 
not,  and  if  the  voice  of  precept  be  silent,  fashioning 
themselves  on  the  model  of  your  example.  You  can- 
not escape  their  imitation.  You  cannot  prevent  them 
from  carrying  into  another  generation,  the  stamp  of 
those  habits  which  they  inherit  from  you.  If  you 
are  thoughtless,  or  supine,  an  unborn  race  will  be 
summoned  as  witnesses  of  your  neglect. 

"  Meantime,  the  mighty  debt  runs  on, 

The  dread  account  proceeds, 

And  your  not-doing  is  set  down 

Among  your  darkest  deeds." 

In  ancient  times,  the  theory  that  the  mother  was 
designated  by  nature  as  an  instructor,  was  sometimes 
admitted  and  illustrated.  The  philosopher  Aristip- 
pus  was  the  pupil  of  maternal  precepts.  Revered 
for  his  wisdom,  he  delighted  in  the  appellation  of 
Metrodidactos,  the  "  taught  of  his  mother." 

"  We  are  indebted,"  says  duintilian,  «  for  the  elo- 
quence of  the  Gracchi,  to  their  mother  Cornelia," 
who,  though  qualified  to  give  publick  lectures  in 
philosophy  at  Rome,  did  not  forget  to  be  the  faithful 
teacher  in  private,  of  those,  whom  she  so  justly  styled 
"her  jewels."  St.  Jerome  also  bears  similar  testi- 
mony. "  The  eloquence  of  the  Gracchi  derived  its 
perfection  from  the  mother's  elegance  and  purity  of 
language." 


12  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

Should  heathen  mothers  be  permitted  to  be  more 
faithful  in  their  duties,  than  those  who  are  under 
bonds  to  the  life-giving  Gospel?  "A  good  mother," 
says  the  eloquent  L'Aime  Martin,  "  will  seize  upon 
her  child's  heart,  as  her  special  field  of  activity.  To 
be  capable  of  this,  is  the  great  end  of  female  educa- 
tion. I  have  shewn  that  no  universal  agent  of  civil- 
ization exists,  but  through  mothers.  Nature  has 
placed  in  their  hands,  our  infancy  and  youth.  I 
have  been  among  the  first  to  declare  the  necessity 
of  making  them,  by  improved  education,  capable  of 
fulfilling  their  natural  mission.  The  love  of  God 
and  man,  is  the  basis  of  this  system.  In  proportion 
as  it  prevails,  national  enmities  will  disappear,  preju- 
dices become  extinguished,  civilization  spread  itself 
far  and  wide,  one  great  people  cover  the  earth,  and 
the  reign  of  God  be  established.  This  is  to  be  has- 
tened, by  the  watchful  care  of  mothers  over  their 
offspring,  from  the  cradle  upwards." 

What  an  appeal  to  mothers !  What  an  acknow- 
ledgement of  the  dignity  of  their  office  !  The  aid 
of  the  "weaker  vessel,"  is  now  invoked  by  legislators 
and  sages.  It  has  been  discovered  that  there  are 
signs  of  disease  in  the  body  politick,  which  can  .be 
best  allayed,  by  the  subordination  taught  in  families, 
and  through  her  agency  to  whom  is  committed  the 
"moulding  of  the  whole  mass  of  mind  in  its  first 
formation." 

Woman  is  surely  more  deeply  indebted  to  the 


PRIVILEGES    OP    THE    MOTHER.  13 

government  that  protects  her,  than  man,  who  bears 
within  his  own  person  the  elements  of  self-defence. 
But  how  shall  her  gratitude  be  best  made  an  opera- 
tive principle  ?  Secluded  as  she  wisely  is,  from  any 
share  in  the  administration  of  government,  how  shall 
her  patriotism  find  legitimate  exercise  ?  The  admix- 
ture of  the  female  mind  in  the  ferment  of  political 
ambition,  would  be  neither  safe,  if  it  were  permitted, 
nor  to  be  desired,  if  it  were  safe.  Nations  who  have 
encouraged  it,  have  usually  found  their  cabinet- 
councils  perplexed  by  intrigue,  or  turbulent  with 
contention.  History  has  recorded  instances,  where 
the  gentler  sex  have  usurped  the  sceptre  of  the  mo- 
narch, or  invaded  the  province  of  the  warrior.  But 
we  regard  them  either  with  amazement,  as  a  planet 
rushing  from  its  orbit,  or  with  pity,  as  the  lost  Pleiad, 
forsaking  its  happy  and  brilliant  sisterhood. 

Still,  patriotism  is  a  virtue  in  our  sex,  and  there 
is  an  office  where  it  may  be'  called  into  action,  a  pri- 
vilege which  the  proudest  peer  might  envy.  It  de- 
pends not  on  rank  or  wealth,  the  canvassings  of  par- 
ty, or  the  fluctuations  of  the  will  of  the  people.  Its 
throne  is  the  heart,  its  revenue  in  Eternity.  This 
office  is  that  nfjmptp.rn n.1  jpnr.her.  It  is  hers  by  here- 
ditary right.  Let  her  make  it  an  inalienable  posses- 
sion. Nature  invested  her  with  it,  when  giving  her 
the  key  of  the  infant  soul,  she  bade  her  enter  it 
through  the  affections.  Her  right  to  its  first  love, 
her  intuitive  discernment  of  its  desires  and  impulses, 
2 


14  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

her  tact  in  detecting  the  minutest  shades  of  tempera- 
ment, her  skill  in  forming  the  heart  to  her  purpose, 
are  proofs  both  of  her  prerogative,  and  of  the  Divine 
Source,  whence  it  emanates. 

It  seems  fully  conceded,  that  the  vital  interests  of 
our  country  may  be  aided  by  the  zeal  of  mothers. 
Exposed  as  it  is,  to  the  influx  of  untutored  foreign- 
ers, often  unfit  for  its  institutions,  or  adverse  to  their 
spirit,  it  seems  to  have  been  made  a  repository  for 
the  waste  and  refuse  of  other  nations.  To  neutral- 
ize this  mass,  to  rule  its  fermentations,  to  prevent  it 
from  becoming  a  lava-stream  in  the  garden  of  liberty, 
and  to  purify  it  for  those  channels  where  the  life- 
blood  of  the  nation  circulates,  is  a  work  of  power 
and  peril.  The  force  of  public  opinion,  or  the  ter- 
ror of  law,  must  hold  in  check  these  elements  of 
danger,  until  Education  can  restore  them  to  order 
and  beauty.  Insubordination,  is  becoming  a  promi- 
nent feature  in  some  of  our  principal  cities.  Obe- 
dience in  families,  respect  to  magistrates,  and  love 
of  country,  should  therefore  be  inculcated  with  in- 
creased energy,  by  those  who  have  earliest  access  to 
the  mind.  A  barrier  to  the  torrent  of  corruption, 
and  a  guard  over  the  strong-holds  of  knowledge  and 
of  virtue,  may  be  placed  by  the  mother,  as  she  watch- 
es over  her  cradled  son.  Let  her  come  forth  with 
vigour  and  vigilance,  at  the  call  of  her  country,  not 
like  Boadicea  in  her  chariot,  .but  like  the  mother  of 
/  Washington,  feeling  that  the  first  lesson  to  every 


^ 

PRIVILEGES    OP    THE    MOTHER.  15 

incipient  ruler  should  be,  "how  to  obey."  The  de- 
gree of  her  diligence  in  preparing  her  children  to  be 
good  subjects  of  a  just  government,  will  be  the  true 
measure  of  her  patriotism.  While  she  labours  to 
pour-  a  pure  and  heavenly  spirit  into  the  hearts  that 
open  around  her,  she  knows  not  but  she  may  be 
appointed  to  rear  some  future  statesman,  for  her 
nation's  helm,  or  priest  for  the  temple  of  Jehovah. 
i  But  a  loftier  ambition  will  inspire  the  Christian 
mother,  that  of  preparing  "fellow-citizens  for  the 
saints  in  glory."  All  other  hopes  should  be  held 
secondary,  all  other  distinctions  counted  adventitious 
and  fleeting.  That  she  may  be  enabled  to  fulfil  a 
j  mission  so  sacred,  Heaven  has  given  her  priority  and 
''  power,  and  that  she  may  learn  the  nature  of  the  soul 
j  which  she  is  ordained  to  modify,  has  permitted  her 
to  be  the  first  to  look  into  it,  as  into  the  cup  of  some 
opening  flower,  fresh  from  the  Forming  Hand.  The 
dignity  of  her  office  admits  of  no  substitute.  It  is 
hers  to  labour  day  and  night,  with  patience,  and  in 
joyful  hope.  It  is  hers  to  lead  forth  the  affections 
in  healthful  beauty,  and  prompt  their  heavenward 
aspirings.  It  is  hers  to  foster  tenderness  of  con- 
science, and  so  to  regulate  its  balance  that  it  swerve 
not  amid  the  temptations  of  untried  life.  It  is  hers 
so  to  rivet  principle,  that  it  may  retain  its  integrity, 

(both  "  beneath  the  cloud,  and  under  the  sea."  And 
as  she  labours  for  God,  so  she  labours  for  her  coun- 
try, since  whatever  tends  to  prepare  for  citizenship 


16  LETTERS   TO  MOTHERS. 

in  heaven,  cannot  fail  to  make  good  and  loyal  sub- 
jects of  any  just  government  on  earth. 

This,  then,  is  the  patriotism  of  woman,  not  to 
thunder  in  senates,  or  to  usurp  dominion,  or  to  seek 
the  clarion-blast  of  fame,  but  faithfully  to  teach  by 
precept  and  example,  that  wisdom,  integrity,  and 
peace,  which  are  the  glory  of  a  nation.  Thus,  in 
the  wisdom  of  Providence,  has  she  been  prepared  by 
the  charm  of  life's  fairest  season,  for  the  happiness 
of  love;  incited  to  rise  above  the  trifling  amuse- 
ments and  selfish  pleasures  which  once  engrossed 
her,  that  she  might  be  elevated  to  the  maternal  dig- 
nity ;  cheered  under  its  sleepless  cares  by  a  new 
affection ;  girded  for  its  labours  by  the  example  of 
past  ages ;  and  adjured  to  fidelity  in  its  most  sacred 
duties,  by  the  voice  of  God. 

Admitting  that  it  is  the  profession  of  our  sex  to 
teach,  we  perceive  the  mother  to  be  first  in  point  of 
precedence,  in  degree  cf  power,  in  the  faculty  of 
teaching,  and  in  the  department  allotted.  For  in 
point  of  precedence,  she  is  next  to  the  Creator ;  in 
power  over  her  pupil,  limitless  and  without  com- 
petitor ;  in  faculty  of  teaching,  endowed  with  the 
prerogative  of  a  transforming  love ;  while  the  glori- 
ous department  allotted  is  a  newly  quickened  soul, 
and  its  immortal  destiny 

Let  her,  then,  not  be  regardless  of  the  high  privi- 
leges conferred  upon  her,  or  seek  to  stipulate  for  a 
life  of  indolence  and  ease,  or  feebly  say  that  her 


PRIVILEGES    OP   THE   MOTHER.  17 

individual  exertion  can  be  of  little  value.  Let  her 
not  omit  daily  to  cast  into  the  treasury  of  the  un- 
folding mind  her  "two  mites."  The  habits  which 
she  early  impresses,  though  to  her  eye  they  seem  but 
as  the  filmy  line  of  the  spider,  scarcely  clasping  the 
spray,  trembling  at  every  breeze,  may  prove  links  of 
tempered  steel,  binding  a  deathless  being  to  eternal 
felicity  or  woe.  A  glorious  aggregate  will  at  last 
be  formed  by  long  perseverance  in  "  line  upon  line, 
precept  upon  precept,  here  a  little,  and  there  a  little." 
As  the  termites  patiently  carry  grains  of  sand,  till 
their  citadel  astonishes  the  eye,  as  the  coral  insect 
toils  beneath  the  waters,  till  reef  joins  reef,  and 
islands  spring  up  with  golden  fruitage  and  perennial 
verdure,  so  let  the  mother,  "  sitting  down  or  walk- 
ing by  the  way,"  in  the  nursery,  the  parlour,  even 
from  the  death-bed,  labour  to  impress  on  her  off- 
spring that  goodness,  purity,  and  piety,  which  shall 
render  them  acceptable  to  society,  to  their  country, 
and  to  their  God. 


•• 


18  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 


LETTER  II. 

INFLUENCE    OF   CHILDREN   UPON   PARENTS. 

WE  speak  of  educating  our  children.  Do  we 
know  that  our  children  also  educate  us  1 

"  How  much  tenderness,  how  much  generosity," 
says  a  fine  writer,  "  springs  into  the  father's  heart, 
from  the  cradle  of  his  child.  What  is  there  so  af- 
fecting to  the  noble  and  virtuous  man,  as  that  being 
which  perpetually  needs  his  help,  and  yet  cannot 
call  for  it.  Inarticulate  sounds,  or  sounds  which 
he  receives  half  formed,  he  bows  himself  down  to 
modulate,  he  lays  them  with  infinite  care  and  pa- 
tience not  only  on  the  tender,  attentive  ear,  but  on 
the  half-open  lips,  on  the  cheeks,  as  if  they  all  were 
listeners." 

And  if  the  sterner  nature  of  man  is  thus  readily 
softened,  how  much  more  must  the  pliancy  of  wo- 
man be  modified,  through  the  melting  affections  of 
the  mother. 

Our  authority  over  our  children  passes  away 
with  their  period  of  tutelage.  But  their  influence 
over  us,  increases  with  time.  The  mother,  asso- 
ciating her  daughters  with  herself,  becomes  gradu- 


INFLUENCE  OF  CHILDREN  UPON  PARENTS.      19 


ally  guided  by  the  judgment  which  she  had  assisted 
to  form.  Ho\v  common  is  the  remark,  "I  have 
done  this,  or  that,  because  my  daughter  thought  it 
best."  And  the  acquiescence  is  still  more  common 
than  the  remark.  The  father  quotes  the  opinion 
of  his  sons  with  pride,  and  is  perhaps  governed  by 
it,  even  when  it  differs  from  his  own.  This  influ- 
ence of  the  younger  over  the  elder,  naturally  gains 
strength,  as  one  comes  forth  with  new  vigour  and 
energy,  and  the  other,  passing  into  the  vale  of  years, 
learns  to  love  repose. 

It  is  important  that  the  power  which  is  eventu- 
ally to  modify  us,  should  be  under  the  guidance  of 
correct  principle.  We  select  with  care,  a  garment 
which  is  to  protect  us  from  cold,  or  which  is  ex- 
pected to  be  in  use  for  years.  We  are  solicitous  to 
obtain  the  best  plan,  when  we  erect  a  permanent 
habitation.  We  take  pains  that  the  chronometer 
which  is  to  measure  our  hours,  shall  be  accurate. 
Ought  we  not  to  be  still  more  anxious,  more  faith- 
ful, more  wary,  in  fashioning  the  instrument  which 
is  to  measure  our  happiness,  when  the  snows  of  the 
winter  of  life  shall  cover  us?  If  we  fail  to  instil 
correct  principles  into  those,  who  are  in  the  end  to 
impress  their  own  semblance  upon  us  ;  if  through 
their  want  of  respectability,  we  are  to  be  made  less 
respectable ;  if  even  in  their  errors,  .we  are  to  par- 
take, as  well  as  to  be  wounded,  how  great  will  be 
the  loss ! 


20  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

"  How  keen  the  pang,  but  keener  far  to  feel, 
We  nurs'd  the  feather  that  impell'd  the  steel." 

While  the  minds  of  children  are  in  their  waxen 
state,  let  parents  be  most  assiduous  to  impress  on 
them  such  a  likeness,  as  they  should  be  willing 
themselves  to  bear.  This  injunction  addresses  it- 
self more  immediately  to  the  mother,  who  has  it  in 
her  power  to  make  the  earliest  impressions,  and  is 
liable  in  her  turn  to  be  the  most  strongly  im- 
pressed. 

Observe  how  soon,  and  to  what  a  degree,  this  in- 
fluence begins  to  operate.  Her  first  ministration  for 
her  infant  is  to  enter,  as  it  were,  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  and  win  its  life  at  the  peril  of  her 
own.  How  different  must  an  affection  thus  found- 
ed, be  from  all  others.  As  if  to  deepen  its  power,  a 
season  of  languor  ensues,  when  she  is  compara- 
tively alone  with  her  infant  and  with  Him  who 
gave  it,  cultivating  an  acquaintance  with  a  new  be- 
ing, and  through  a  new  channel,  with  the  greatest 
of  all  beings.  Is  she  not  also  herself  an  image  of 
His  goodness,  while  she  cherishes  in  her  bosom  the 
young  life  that  he  laid  there  1  A  love,  whose  root 
is  in  death,  whose  fruit  must  be  in  Eternity,  has 
taken  possession  of  her.  No  wonder  that  its  effects 
are  obvious  and  great. 

Has  she  been  selfish?  or  rather,  has  the  disposi- 
tion to  become  so  been  nourished  by  the  indul- 
gence of  affluence,  or  the  adulation  offered  to  beau- 


INFLUENCE  OF  CHILDREN  UPON  PARENTS.       21 

ty?  How  soon  she  sacrifices  her  own  ease  and 
convenience  to  that  of  her  babe.  She  wakens  at  its 
slightest  cry,  and  in  its  sickness  forgets  to  take  sleep. 

"  Night  after  night 

She  keepeth  vigil,  and  when  tardy  morn 
Breaks  on  her  watching  eye-lids,  and  she  fain 
Would  lay  her  down  to  rest,  its  weak  complaining 
O'ercomes  her  weariness." 

Has  she  been  indolent  or  vain?  The  physical 
care  of  her  child  helps  to  correct  these  faults.  She 
patiently  plies  the  needle,  to  adorn  its  person.  She 
is  pleased  to  hear  the  praises  that  were  once  lav- 
ished on  herself,  transferred  to  her  new  darling. 
Almost  could  she  respond  to  the  sentiment  of  Os- 
sian,  "  Let  the  name  of  Morni  be  forgotten  among 
the  people,  if  they  will  only  say,  Behold  the  father 
of  Gaul." 

Has  she  been  too  much  devoted  to  fashionable 
amusements'?  She  learns  to  prize  home-felt  plea- 
sures. She  prefers  her  nursery  to  the  lighted  sa- 
loon, and  the  brilliant  throng. 

Has  she  been  passionate  ?  She  restrains  herself. 
How  can  she  require  the  government  of  temper 
from  her  child,  and  yet  set  him  no  example  ?  She 
learns  to  feel  with  Rousseau,  that  "  the  greatest  re- 
spect is  due  to  children."  When  her  temper  has 
been  discomposed,  she  dreads  the  gaze  of  that  little, 
pure,  wondering  eye,  perhaps  even  more  than  the 
reproof  of  conscience. 


22  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

In  the  artificial  intercourse  of  society,  has  she 
sometimes  ceased  to  regard  the  true  import  of 
words  ?  And  does  she  not  require  truth  of  her 
child?  As  he  advances  towards  moral  agency,  is 
she  not  more  and  more  moved  to  exemplify  that 
strict  integrity  which  she  demands  of  him  ? 

Has  she  evaded  the  requisitions  of  religion? 
And  is  she  willing  that  her  child  should  be  im- 
pious ? 

Thus  powerful  are  the  influences  exercised  by 
the  infant  upon  its  mother,  from  the  moment  of  its 
birth.  If  she  yields  to  the  transforming  power, 
daily  soliciting  the  Spirit  of  God  to  sanctify  and 
sublimate  the  newly  implanted  affection,  she  may 
trust  to  reap  a  blessed  harvest.  But  however  im- 
perfect may  be  her  own  spiritual  improvement  of 
the  precious  gift,  she  can  scarcely  fail  to  feel  and 
acknowledge,  that  in  this  new  existence,  she  has 
doubled  her  own  capacities  for  enjoyment.  No 
matter  by  what  suffering  this  joy  has  been  ob- 
tained. The  sleepless  nights,  the  days  of  seclu- 
sion, the  long  heaviness  that  weighed  down  the 
buoyant  spirit,  the  pang  that  has  never  yet  been 
described,  all  are  forgotten.  "She  remembereth 
no  more  her  sorrow,"  saith  that  sacred  pen,  which 
knows  to  touch  the  soul's  inmost  recesses.  Nay, 
she  would  willingly  have  endured  a  thousand  fold, 
for  such  a  payment. 

She  has  entered  the  temple  of  a  purer  happiness, 


INFLUENCE  OF  CHILDREN  UPON  PARENTS.        23 

and  become  the  disciple  of  a  higher  school.  She  is 
led  to  be  disinterested,  she  is  induced  to  resign  the 
restless  search  of  pleasure,  to  feel  her  own  insuffi- 
ciency, to  sit  down  under  the  shadow  and  shel- 
ter of  Almighty  wisdom.  Are  not  these  blessed 
results  ? 

But,  young  mother,  what  do  you  hold  in  your 
arms  ?  A  machine  of  exquisite  symmetry ;  the  blue 
veins  revealing  the  mysterious  life-tide  through 
an  almost  transparent  surface ;  the  waking  thought 
speaking  through  the  sparkling  eye,  or  dissolving 
there  in  tears ;  such  a  form  as  the  art  of  man  has 
never  equalled ;  and  such  a  union  of  matter  with 
mind,  as  his  highest  reason  fails  to  comprehend. 
You  embrace  a  being,  whose  developements  may 
yet  astonish  you ;  who  may  perhaps  sway  the  des- 
tiny of  others ;  whose  gatherings  of  knowledge  you 
can  neither  foresee  or  limit ;  and  whose  chequered 
lot  of  sorrow  or  of  joy,  are  known  only  to  the  Om- 
nipotence which  fashioned  him.  Still,  if  this  were 
all,  the  office  of  a  mother  would  lose  its  crown- 
ing dignity.  But  to  be  the  guide  of  a  spirit  which 
can  never  die,  to  make  the  first  indelible  impres- 
sions on  what  may  be  a  companion  of  seraphs," - 
and  live  with  an  unbounded  capacity  for  bliss  or 
woe,  when  these  poor  skies  under  which  it  was 
born,  shall  have  vanished  like  a  vision,  this  is 
the  fearful  honour  which  God  hath  entrusted  to 
the  "weaker  vessel,"  and  which  would  make  us 


24  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

tremble  amid  our  happiness,  if  we  took  not  refuge 
in  Him. 

I  have  seen  a  young  and  beautiful  mother,  her- 
self like  a  brilliant  and  graceful  flower.  Nothing 
could  divide  her  from  her  infant.  It  was  to  her 
as  a  twin-soul.  She  had  loved  society,  for  there 
she  had  been  as  an  idol.  But  what  was  the  fleeting 
delight  of  adulation,  to  the  deep  love  that  took  pos- 
session of  her  whole  being?  She  had  loved  her 
father's  house.  There,  she  was  ever  like  a  song- 
bird, the  first  to  welcome  the  day,  and  the  last  to 
bless  it.  Now,  she  wreathed  the  same  blossoms  of 
the  heart  around  another  home,  and  lulled  her 
little  nursling  with  the  same  inborn  melodies. 

It  was  sick.  She  hung  over  it.  She  watched 
it.  She  comforted  it.  She  sat  whole  nights  with 
it  in  her  arms.  It  was  to  her  like  the  beloved  of 
the  King  of  Israel,  "feeding  among  the  lillies." 
Under  the  pressure  of  this  care,  there  was  in  her 
eye,  a  deep  and  holy  beauty,  which  never  gleam- 
ed there,  when  she  was  radiant  in  the  dance,  or 
in  the  halls  of  fashion,  the  cynosure.  She  had 
been  taught  to  love  God,  and  his  worship,  from  her 
youth  up  ;  but  when  health  again  glowed  in  the 
face  of  her  babe,  there  came  from  her  lip,  such  a 
prayer  of  flowing  praise,  as  it  had  never  before 
breathed. 

And  when  in  her  beautiful  infant,  there  were  the 
first  developements  of  character,  and  of  those  pre- 


INFLUENCE    OP   CHILDREN   UPON   PARENTS.      25 

ferences  and  aversions  which  leave  room  to  doubt 
whether  they  are  from  simplicity  or  perverseness, 
and  whether  they  should  be  repressed  or  pitied, 
and  how  the  harp  might  be  so  tuned  as  not  to 
injure  its  tender  and  intricate  harmony,  there  burst 
from  her  soul  a  supplication  more  earnest,  more 
self-abandoning,  more  prevailing,  than  she  had  ever 
before  poured  into  the  ear  of  the  majesty  of  heaven. 
So  the  feeble  hand  of  the  babe  that  she  nou- 
rished, led  her  through  more  profound  depths 
of  humility,  to  higher  aspirations  of  faith.  And  I 
felt  that  the  affection,  to  whose  hallowed  influence 
she  had  so  yielded,  was  guiding  her  to  a  higher 
seat  among  the  "just  made  perfect." 


26  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 


LETTER   III. 

INFANCY. 

INTERCOURSE  with  infancy  is  improving,  as  well 
as  delightful.  It  subdues  pride,  and  deepens  piety. 
Obdurate  natures  are  softened  by  its  sweet  smile, 
and  the  picture  of  its  sleeping  innocence.  Its  en- 
tire helplessness,  its  perfect  trust,  dissolve  the  soul. 
The  bold  wanderer  in  the  world's  crooked  ways, 
gazes,  and  recalls  the  time  when  he  was  himself 
unstained.  Tender  remembrances  take  him  captive, 
and  ere  he  is  aware,  the  tear  trickles  down  his 
cheeks  in  fond  regret,  perhaps  in  healthful  penitence. 

The  construction  of  the  infant's  frame ;  the  little 
beating  heart,  sending  life-blood  through  its  thou- 
sand thread-like  channels ;  the  lungs,  fastening  with 
delight  on  the  gift  of  the  pure  air ;  the  countless 
absorbents,  busied  in  their  invisible  work-shops ;  the 
net-work  of  nerves,  minute  as  the  filaments  of 
thought,  quickening  with  sensation;  the  tender 
brain,  beginning  its  mysterious  agency ;  the  silken 
fringe  of  the  eyes,  opening  wider  as  some  brilliant 
colour  strikes  the  dazzled  retina ;  the  slender  fingers 
unfolding  themselves,  as  some  new  sound  winds  its 


INFANCY.  27 

way  through  the  ear's  untrodden  labyrinth,  giving 
its  key-tone  to  the  wondering  mind;  all  the  mystery 
and  beauty  of  this  miniature  temple,  where  the  ethe- 
rial  spirit  is  a  lodger,  lead  the  observer  to  an  Al- 
mighty Architect,  and  constrain  him  to  adore. 

But  especially  is  the  care  of  infancy  salutary  to 
the  character.  It  inspires  the  gentle,  pitying,  and 
hallowed  affections.  Mothers,  the  blessing  of  this 
ministry  is  ours.  Let  us  study  night  and  day,  the 
science  that  promotes  the  welfare  of  our  infant. 

We  cannot  but  be  aware  that  our  duty  to  it  be- 
gins before  its  birth.  Every  irritable  feeling  should 
then  be  restrained,  and  the  overflowing  joy  and 
hope  of  our  religion  be  our  daily  aliment.  Exercise 
among  the  beautiful  works  of  nature,  the  infusion 
of  social  feeling,  and  contemplation  of  the  most 
cheering  subjects,  should  be  cherished  by  her  who 
has  the  glorious  hope  of  introducing  into  this  world 
a  being  never  to  die ;  who,  already  a  part  of  herself, 
adds  warmth  and  frequency  to  her  prayers,  and 
whom,  "  having  not  seen,  she  loves." 

To  those,  who  from  a  depression  which  they  ima- 
gine they  cannot  controul,  are  inclined  too  much 
to  seclude  themselves,  we  would  address  the  elo- 
quent words  of  Milton:  "In  vernal  seasons 
of  the  year,  when  the  air  is  calm  and  pleasant,  it 
were  both  an  injury,  and  a  sullenness  against  na- 
ture, not  to  go  forth  and  see  her  riches,  and  par- 
take in  her  rejoicing  with  heaven  and  earth." 


5  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

The  first  three  months  of  infancy  should  be  a 
season  of  quietness.  The  unfolding  organs  require 
the  nursing  of  silence  and  of  love.  The  delicate 
system,  like  the  mimosa,  shrinks  from  every  rude 
touch.  Violent  motions  are  uncongenial  to  the  new- 
born. Loud,  sharp  sounds,  and  even  glaring  colours, 
should  be  excluded  from  the  nursery.  The  visual 
and  auditory  nerves,  those  princely  ambassadors  to 
the  mind,  are  still  in  embryo.  Inure  them  tenderly 
and  gradually  to  their  respective  functions. 

The  first  months  of  infancy  are  a  spot  of  bright- 
ness to  a  faithful  and  affectionate  mother ;  a  dream 
of  bliss,  from  which  she  wakes  to  more  complicated 
duties ;  a  payment  for  past  suffering,  a  preparation 
for  future  toil.  I  heard  a  lady,  who  had  brought 
up  a  large  family,  say  it  was  the  "  only  period  of 
a  mother's  perfect  enjoyment."  At  its  expiration 
comes  dentition,  with  a  host  of  physical  ills.  The 
character  begins  to  develope,  and  sometimes  to  take 
that  tinge  which  occasional  pain  of  body  or  fret- 
fulness  of  temper  impart.  The  alphabet  of  exist- 
ence is  learned.  We  can  perceive  that  its  combi- 
nations are  not  always  in  harmony.  The  little 
being  takes  hold  upon  this  life  of  trial.  Soon,  its 
ignorance  must  be  dispelled,  its  perceptions  guided, 
its  waywardness  quelled,  its  passions  held  in  check, 
by  one  who  often  feels  herself  too  infirm  for  the 
mighty  task. 

Yet,  were  I  to  define  the  climax  of  happiness 


INFANCY.  29 

which  a  mother  enjoys  with  her  infant,  I  should 
by  no  means  limit  it  to  the  first  three  months.  The 
whole  season  while  it  is  deriving  nutriment  from 
her,  is  one  of  peculiar,  inexpressible  felicity.  She 
has  it  in  her  power  so  immediately  to  hush  its 
meanings,  to  sooth  its  sorrows,  to  alleviate  its  sick- 
nesses, that  she  is  to  it  as  a  tutelary  spirit. 

Dear  friends,  be  not  anxious  to  abridge  this  hal- 
cyon period.  Do  not  willingly  deprive  yourselves 
of  any  portion  of  the  highest  pleasure  of  which 
woman's  nature  is  capable.  Devote  yourselves  to 
the  work.  Have  nothing  to  do  with  the  fashion- 
able evening  party,  the  crowded  hall,  the  changes 
of  dress  that  put  health  in  jeopardy.  Be  temper- 
ate in  all  things.  Receive  no  substance  into  the 
stomach  that  disorders  it ;  no  stimulant  that  affects 
the  head;  indulge  .no  agitating  passions.  They 
i  change  the  aliment  of  your  child.  They  introduce 
/poison  into  its  veins,  or  kindle  fever  in  its  blood. 
Experienced  medical  men  will  assure  you,  that  its 
constitution  through  life  is  modified  by  the  nursing 
of  the  first  year.  One  of  the  most  illustrious  living 
physicians  in  Paris,  while  testing  the  pathology  of 
disease  in  the  thronged  wards  of  the  hospitals  in 
that  metropolis,  always  questions  the  new  patient, 

L  "were  you  nursed  at  the  breast  of  your  mother? 

•;     and  how  long  ?" 

I  would  say  to  every  mother,  study  the  consti- 
tution of  your  babe.    If  it  have  any  morbid  ten- 
s' 


30 


LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

. 


dencies,  either  heritable  or  accidental,  bear  steadily 
upon  them  with  the  regimen  best  adapted  to  their 
cure.  Let  it  be  your  aim  to  use  as  little  medicine 
as  possible,  and  not  causelessly  to  trouble  a  phy- 
sician, for  those  trifling  ills  which  your  own  pa- 
tience or  firmness  might  obviate.  Suffer  me  to 
repeat  it,  guard  your  own  health,  and  serenity  of 
spirit,  for  the  child  is  still  a  part  of  yourself,  as 
the  blossom  of  the  plant,  from  whose  root  it  gathers 
sustenance.  Breathe  over  it,  the  atmosphere  of  hap- 
py and  benevolent  affections.  Surely,  you  cannot 
fail  to  thank  your  Heavenly  Father  for  this  "un- 
speakable gift,"  and  as  you  lull  it  to  that  sleep  which 
knows  no  dream  of  sorrow,  lift  up  the  prayer,  "  let 
this  soul,  so  lately  divided  from  mine,  live  before 
thee,  Oh  God!" 

As  this  fragment  of  yourself  advances  toward  the 
properties  of  a  sentient  being,  you  will  naturally 
vary  your  mode  of  treatment.  The  expanding  mus- 
cles require  more  exercise.  The  perceptions  shoot 
forth,  like  timid  tendrils  under  the/  vine-leaf.  It 
loves  to  inhale  the  fresh  air,  to  be  carried  out  be- 
neath the  shade  of  green  trees  in  summer.  It  re- 
gards the  brilliant  petals  of  flowers,  and  the  per- 
fume of  the  rose.  It  listens  to  the  shrill  note  of  the 
bird,  and  looks  with  wonder  upon  the  leaping, 
tuneful  brook.  It  is  fitting  that  it  should  find  a 
place  among  the  beauties  and  melodies  of  nature, 
itself  more  beautiful  than  they.  If  your  situation 


INFANCY.  31 

allows  you  thus  to  give  it  exercise,  in  fine  weather 
avail  yourself  of  the  privilege.  If  not,  furnish  it 
the  best  mode  of  recreation  in  the  open  air  which 
is  in  your  power.  But  avoid  all  undue  excitement. 

)lts  nerves  are  still  as  a  harp  imperfectly  strung,  and 
liable  to  dissonance. 

During  this  first  sacred  year,  trust  not  your  trea- 
sure too  much  to  the  charge  of  hirelings.  Have 
it  under  your  superintendence,  both  night  and  day. 
When  necessarily  engaged  in  other  employments, 
let  it  hear  your  cheering,  protecting  tone.  Keep 
it  ever  within  the  sensible  atmosphere  of  maternal 
tenderness.  Its  little  heart  will  soon  reach  out  the 
slender  radicles  of  love  and  trust.  Nourish  them 
with  smiles  and  caresses,  the  "  small  dew  upon  the 
tender  grass."  When  it  learns  to  distinguish  you, 
by  stretching  its  arms  for  your  embrace;  when  on 
its  little  tottering  feet  it  essays  to  run  towards  you ; 
above  all,  when  the  first  effort  of  its  untaught 
tongue  is  to  form  your  name,  mother,  there  is 
neither  speech  nor  language  by  which  to  express 
your  joy !  No,  no,  the  poverty  of  words  will  never 
be  so  unwise  as  to  attempt  it. 

Do  you  ask,  when  shall  we  begin  to  teach  our 

children  religion  ?    As  soon  as  you  see  them.    As 

I   soon  as  they  are  laid  upon  your  breast.     As  soon 

I  .  as  you  feel  the  pure  breath  issuing  from  that  won- 

/    drous  tissue  of  air-vessels  which  God  has  wreathed 

around  the  heart. 


32  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

The  religion  of  a  new-born  babe,  is  the  prayer 
of  its  mother.  Keep  this  sacred  flame  burning  for 
it,  in  the  shrine  of  the  soul,  until  it  is  able  to  light 
its  own  feeble  lamp,  and  fill  its  new  censer  with 
praise. 

As  the  infant  advances  in  strength,  its  religion 
i  should  be  love.  Teach  it  love,  by  your  own  ac- 
cents, your  countenance,  your  whole  deportment. 
Labour  to  fashion  its  habits  and  temper-  after  this 
hallowed  model.  Let  the  first  lessons  of  earth, 
breathe  the  spirit  of  heaven. 

When  the  high  gifts  of  speech  and  thought  are 
given  it,  point  it  to  Him  who  caused  the  sun  to 
shine,  and  the  plant  to  grow,  and  the  chirping  bird 
to  be  joyful  in  its  nest.  Teach  it  that  it  is  loved 
of  this  Great  Being,  that  it  may  love  him  in  return. 
Mingle  the  majesty  of  His  goodness  with  the  ele- 
ments of  its  thought.  You  will  be  surprised  to  see 
how  soon  the  lisping  lip  may  learn  communion 
with  the  Father  of  Mercies. 

"  Teach  me  to  pray,  instruct  me  in  religion !" 
said  a  young  prince  to  his  tutor.  "  You  are  not  yet 
old  enough."  "Ah,  yes !  I  have  been  in  the  bury- 
ing ground.  I  have  measured  the  graves.  There 
are  some  there  which  are  shorter  than  I." 

Mother,  if  there  is,  in  your  church-yard,  one 
grave  shorter  than  your  child,  hasten  to  instruct 
him  in  religion. 


FIRST   LESSONS.  33 


LETTER    IV. 

FIRST    LESSONS. 

WATCH  for  the  time  when  your  little  one  first 
exhibits  decided  preferences,  and  aversions.  The 
next  letter  in  the  alphabet,  is  obedience.  It  is  its 
first  step  towards  religion.  The  fear  of  God  must 
be  taught  by  the  parent,  standing  for  a  time  in 
the  place  of  God. 

Establish  your  will,  as  the  law.  Do  it  early, 
for  docility  is  impaired  by  delay.  It  is  the  truest 
love,  to  save  the  little  stranger  in  this  labyrinth 
of  life,  all  those  conflicts  of  feeling,  which  must 
continue  as  long  as  it  remains  doubtful  who  is  to 
be  its  guide.  As  the  root  and  germ  of  piety,  as 
a  preparation  for  submission  to  the  Eternal  Father, 
as  the  subduing  process,  which  is  to  lead  it  in 
calmness  through  the  storms  and  surges  of  time, 
teach  obedience. 

It  is  a  simple  precept  in  philosophy,  that  obedi- 
ence should  be  the  most  entire  and  unconditional, 
where  reason  is  the  weakest.  Its  requisitions  should 
be  enforced,  in  proportion  to  the  want  of  intelli- 
gence in  the  subject.  The  parent  is  emphatically 


34  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

a  light  to  those  who  sit  in  darkness.  The  transi- 
tion from  the  dreamy  existence  of  infancy,  to  the 
earliest  activity  of  childhood,  is  a  period  when  pa- 
rental authority  is  eminently  needful,  to  repress 
evil,  and  to  preserve  happiness.  But  it  must  have 
been  established  before,  in  order  to  be  in  readiness 
then.  Without  this  rudder,  the  little  voyager  is 
liable  to  be  thrown  among  the  eddies  of  its  own 
passions,  and  wrecked  like  the  bark  canoe. 

You  will  not  suppose  me,  my  dear  friends,  the 
advocate  of  austerity.  As  the  substitution  of  your 
wisdom,  in  the  place  of  the  wayward  impulses  of 
your  child,  is  the  truest  kindness,  so  it  is  a  fea- 
ture of  that  kindness,  to  commence  it  when  it  may 
be  done  with  the  greatest  ease.  Gentleness,  com- 
bined with  firmness,  will  teach  it  to  your  infant. 
Wait  a  few  months,  and  perhaps  it  may  not  be  so. 
Obedience,  to  the  mind  in  its  waxen  state,  is  like 
the  silken  thread  by  which  the  plant  is  drawn 
toward  its  prop;  enforced  too  late,  it  is  like  the 
lasso,  with  which  the  wild  horse  is  enchained, 
requiring  dexterity  to  throw,  and  severity  to 
manage. 

Deaf  and  dumb  children,  or  those  whose  intel- 
lect is  weak,  it  is  peculiarly  cruel  not  to  subju- 
gate. With  them,  the  will  of  the  parent  must 
longer,  and  more  entirely  operate.  As  reason  de- 
velopes,  and  the  habits  become  regulated,  and  the 
affections  take  their  right  place,  parental  authority 


FIR.ST    LESSONS.  35 

naturally  relaxes  its  vigilance.  It  loosens,  and 
falls  off,  like  the  thorny  sheath  of  the  chesnut,  when 
the  kernel  ripens.  But  the  husk  of  the  chesnut 
is  opened  by  the  frost,  and  the  sway  of  the  pa- 
rent yields  to  the  sharper  lessons  of  the  world: 
and  of  this  teaching,  the  young  probationer  is  not 
always  able  to  say  that, 

"When  most  severe  and  mustering  all  its  wrath, 
'Tis  but  the  graver  countenance  of  love." 

With  many  of  our  most  illustrious  characters, 
the  obedience  of  earlier  years  was  strongly  en- 
forced. We  know  it  was  so,  in  the  case  of  Wash- 
ington. Other  examples  might  be  easily  adduced. 
Those  who  have  most  wisely  ruled  others,  have 
usually  tested,  by  their  own  experience,  the  nature 
of  subordination,  at  its  proper  season.  Fabius 
Maximus,  whose  invincible  wisdom  tamed  the 
fierce  spirits  of  Rome,  was  so  distinguished  by 
submission  to  his  superiors,  as  to  be  derided  by  the 
insubordinate,  and  called  in  his  boyhood,  "the 
little  sheep." 

Let  the  next  lesson  to  your  infant  pupil,  be 
kindness  to  all  around.  The  rudiments  are  best 
taught  by  the  treatment  of  animals.  If  it  seizes 
a  kitten  by  the  back,  or  pulls  its  hair,  show  im- 
mediately by  your  own  example,  how  it  may  be 
held  properly,  and  soothed  into  confidence.  Draw 
back  the  little  hand,  lifted  to  strike  the  dog.  Per- 


36  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

haps  it  may  not  understand  that  it  thus  inflicts 
pain.  But  be  strenuous  in  confirming  an  opposite 
habit.  Do  not  permit  it  to  kill  flies,  or  to  trouble 
harmless  insects.  Check  the  first  buddings  of 
those  Domitian  tastes.  Instruct  it  that  the  gift  of 
life,  to  the  poor  beetle,  or  the  crawling  worm,  is 
from  the  Great  Father  above,  and  not  to  be  lightly 
trodden  out.  A  little  boy,  who  early  discovered 
propensities  to  cruelty,  was  so  thoroughly  weaned 
from  them,  by  his  mother,  that  when  attending 
to  infantine  lessons  in  Natural  History,  long  before 
he  was  able  to  read,  and  hearing  of  a  bird  that  was 
fond  of  catching  flies,  he  lisped,  with  a  kind  of 
horror  upon  his  baby-face,  "  Oh !  kill  flies !  will 
God  forgive  it  ?" 

Another  boy  was  observed  never  to  deviate  in 
his  kind  treatment  of  dogs.  And  he  remembered 
that  with  a  heaving  breast,  and  suffused  eye,  he 
had  listened,  when  almost  an  infant,  to  the  follow- 
ing simple  story. 

"  There  was  once  a  good  dog.  His  master  was 
always  kind  to  him.  When  he  called  him,  he 
came  ;  when  he  went  from  home,  he  followed 
him ;  when  he  sat  by  the  fire,  he  slept  at  his  feet. 
But  his  master  grew  sick,  and  died.  The  dog 
watched  where  they  buried  him.  He  went  and 
stretched  himself  out  on  the  grave.  The  people 
from  the  house,  came  to  coax  him  home  again. 
They  said,  "  come  !  come !  poor  fellow !  we  will 


FIRST    LESSONS.  37 

feed  you;  we  will  be  kind  to  you."  He  went 
with  them,  but  he  would  not  stay.  He  would  not 
lay  down  by  the  fire,  and  sleep  where  he  used  to 
do.  For  his  master  was  not  there.  He  took 
only  a  little  food,  and  hurried  back  to  the  grave. 
There  he  watched  night  and  day.  When  he 
heard  a  footstep  among  the  tombs,  he  started  up, 
and  gazed  earnestly  around.  But  when  he  saw 
it  was  not  his  dear  master,  he  laid  his  head  on 
the  turf  again,  and  moaned.  The  storms  beat  on 
him,  and  the  cold  snows,  but  he  would  not  leave 
the  grave.  In  the  dark  midnight,  it  was  sad  to 
hear  his  voice  among  the  dead,  calling  for  his 
master.  But  his  barking  grew  fainter  and  fainter. 
Pitying  children  brought  him  meat  and  bread. 
He  was  too  weak  to  eat,  and  he  ceased  to  lick 
their  hands.  He  grew  thin,  and  pined  away.  At 
last  he  could  no  longer  rise  up  on  his  feet;  and 
so  he  died,  calling  for  his  beloved  master." 

How  soon  such  precepts  of  kindness,  in  the 
tender  tones  of  a  mother,  may  incorporate  them- 
selves with  the  nature  of  an  infant,  we  know  not. 
But  we  do  know  that  those  baleful  dispositions, 
which  desolate  human  happiness,  are  often  early 
developed.  It  was  Benedict  Arnold,  the  traitor, 
who  in  his  boyhood  loved  to  destroy  insects,  to 
mutilate  toads,  to  steal  the  eggs  of  the  mourning 
bird,  and  torture  quiet,  domestic  animals,  who 
eventually  laid  waste  the  shrinking,  domestic 
4 


38  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

charities,   and  would  have,  drained  the  life-blood 
of  his  endangered  country. 

Let  your  third  lesson  be  truth.  Grant  the  little 
learner  all  the  aid  in  your  power,  for  the  growth 
of  this  cardinal  virtue.  Do  not  be  severe  for 
little  faults,  and  especially  for  accidents.  Do  not 
set  fear  in  array  against  truth,  in  the  breast  of  your 
child.  It  is  stronger,  and  will  prevail ;  for  its 
moral  code  is  yet  unsettled,  but  the  passions,  like 
Minerva,  have  sprung  armed  into  life.  As  your 
child  becomes  acquainted  with  the  import  of 
words,  accustom  it  to  speak  to  you  freely  of  its 
i'aults.  Explain  to  it,  that  it  is  an  erring  being, 
that  your  discipline  is  intended  to  make  it  better, 
more  acceptable  to  God,  happier  when  it  grows 
up,  and  in  the  life  to  come.  Assure  it,  that  you 
should  be  wanting  in  your  duty,  if  you  failed  to 
reform  its  errors,  and  therefore  exhort  it  to  tell 
you  frankly  when  it  has  erred,  as  the  physician 
requires  of  the  sick  man  a  full  account  of  his 
symptoms,  ere  he  proportions  the  remedy.  A  child, 
thus  instructed,  was  often  led  by  the  nurse  to 
his  mother's  room,  when  he  had  offended,  and  left 
there,  without  any  accusation,  save  his  own  lisp- 
ing voice ;  and  it  was  invariably  found  on  com- 
paring his  evidence  with  the  facts,  that  he  had 
preserved  the  beauty  of  truth  inviolate.  This 
result  would  be  more  frequently  seen,  if  we  did 
not  terrify  the  infant  delinquents.  They  are 


FIRST    LESSONS.  39 

often  puzzled  with  the  meaning  of  words,  when 
questions  are  rapidly  addressed  to  them  ;  even  their 
reliance  on  our  justice  forsakes  them,  if  they  discern 
the  lineaments  of  anger ;  and  self-preservation,  the 
first  law  of  nature,  coming  into  action,  overthrows 
their  infirm  integrity. 

"  My  goodness  groivs  weak"  said  a  boy,  of  five 
years  old,  running  into  his  mother's  arms:  "help 
me  to  be  good."  Doubtless  we  might  longer  con- 
tinue as  guardian  angels  to  our  children,  if  we 
cultivated  in  them  habits  of  perfect  confidence, 
and  forebore  to  terrify  them  for  trivial  delin- 
quencies. 

As  an  important  ally  of  truth,  we  should  pro- 
tect their  simplicity.  The  whole  structure  of 
society  is  so  artificial,  that  to  a  child  it  is  a  per- 
petual mystery.  A  little  boy  when  taking  his 
leave  at  night,  to  go  to  bed,  said  to  one  of  the 
circle,  whom  he  kissed,  "you  have  not  got  a 
pretty  face."  Another,  who  sat  near,  expressed 
surprise  at  the  remark,  and  to  him  also  he  said, 
"I  do  not  like  your  face,  neither."  His  mother 
inquired,  "  whose  face  do  you  like  ?"  Pointing 
to  the  handsomest  of  the  group,  he  replied,  "  hers, 
my  grown-up  sister's  face."  Now,  what  at  first 
view  seemed  rudeness,  was  simply  an  expression 
of  the  perception  of  beauty.  He  wished  to  impart 
the  new  pleasure  that  had  entered  into  his  infant 
heart,  and  he  chose  at  first  to  give  the  proposition 


40  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

a  negative  form.  In  a  mature,  and  educated  per- 
son, this  would  have  been  a  breach  of  politeness. 
But  the  little  one  uttered  only  the  truth.  He  had 
not  learned  the  adage,  that  "  truth  is  not  to  be 
spoken  at  all  times."  Nor  could  he,  until  his 
judgment  had  acquired  strength,  or  rather,  until 
he  had  become  hackneyed  in  the  world's  policy. 
The  mother,  who  was  prepared  to  reprove  him, 
saw  that  he  ought  not  to  be  reproved.  Still  we 
cannot  begin  too  early  to  teach  our  children,  to 
say  nothing  that  will  wound  the  feelings  of 
another.  This  precept  must  be  sedulously  en- 
forced, until  it  takes  the  form  of  habit,  and  the 
root  of  principle.  Those  individuals,  who  are  the 
most  strictly  careful  to  speak  no  words  that  will 
unnecessarily  give  pain,  are  usually  the  most  ready 
to  acknowledge,  that  it  is  the  fruit  of  education, 
or  example,  more  than  of  any  inherent  sympa- 
thy, or  native  tenderness  for  their  fellow-creatures. 
To  respect  truth,  yet  to  bear  upon  the  tongue 
the  "  law  of  kindness,"  is  a  branch  of  education 
which  parents  should  impress  upon  all  who  are 
under  their  controul.  The  politeness  which  springs 
from  such  a  soil,  is  worthy  of  a  Christian. 

Yet,  why  need  we  compel  our  children  to  adopt 
the  conventional  forms  of  society,  when  they  sub- 
vert simplicity  ?  Why  commence  a  warfare  against 
Nature,  almost  as  soon  as  she  developes  herself? 
Why  help  to  root  out  that  singleness  of  heart, 


FIRST    LESSONS.  41 

which  is  the  most  winning  and  remarkable  flower 
in  the  garden  of  life?  We  tell  our  young  chil- 
dren that  they  must  be  polite.  We  force  them 
to  kiss  strangers,  and  to  say  what  they  do  not  feel, 
and  to  repress  what  they  do  feel,  because  it  is 
polite.  Again,  we  tell  them,  in  graver  teachings, 
that  they  must  speak  the  truth.  We  throw  their 
little  minds  into  a  ferment  of  doubt,  to  discover 
what  is  truth,  and  what  is  politeness,  and  to  draw 
that  line  which  no  casuist  has  yet  ever  drawn. 
And  ere  we  are  aware,  the  fresh  integrity  of  the 
soul  escapes.  We  rebuke,  we  punish  them  for  in- 
sincerity. Are  not  the  usages  of  refined  society, 
too  much  based  upon  it  ?  Why  then  force  infancy 
into  them  before  its  time?  Its  social  feelings 
develope  but  slowly;  why  hasten  to  conform 
them  to  those  complex  customs,  and  hollow  cour- 
tesies, which  are  but  too  often  modifications  of 
falsehood.  Rather,  guard  its  simplicity,  and  plant 
deep  in  the  seclusion  of  the  nursery,  that  root  of 
truth,  whose  fruits  are  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

In  teaching  the  three  primary  lessons  of  obe- 
dience, kindness,  and  truth,  there  are  others, 
which  naturally  interweave  themselves,  and  claim 
importance  in  the  moral  code  of  infancy.  A 
mother's  vigilant  eye  will  not  overlook  them, 
while  laying  the  foundation  for  a  future  super- 
structure of  virtue.  Among  them,  she  will  surely 
be  assiduous  to  foster  delicacy.  This  seems  to 
4 


42  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

me  to  be  natural  to  young  children,  as  far  as  I 
have  been  acquainted  with  them,  unless  contam- 
inated by  evil  example.  They  shrink  from  ex- 
posure of  their  persons.  Let  this  feeling  be  re- 
spected where  it  exists,  and  implanted  where  it 
does  not.  Permit  them  to  hear  neither  stories 
or  words,  which  create  impure  associations,  any 
more  than  you  would,  such  as  are  tinctured  with 
profanity.  For  though  they  may  repeat  them, 
without  knowledge  of  their  import,  still  it  is 
dangerous  to  load  memory  with  defilement,  trust- 
ing that  it  will  always  remain  inert.  Perhaps, 
these  cautions  may  be  deemed  superfluous.  Yet 
as  long  as  purity  of  thought  and  character,  are 
essential  to  excellence,  even  the  slightest  fence 
around  their  first  germinations,  is  worthy  of  being 
strengthened. 

I  am  confident  that  mothers  are  not  sufficiently 
careful,  with  regard  to  the  conversation  of  domes- 
tics, or  other  uneducated  persons,  who,  in  their 
absence,  may  undertake  to  amuse  their  children. 
"  If  the  little  girl  cries,  while  I  am  gone,"  said 
a  mother  to  an  Irish  domestic,  recently  hired,  « tell 
her  a  story,  and  she  will  be  quiet."  Ah !  and 

.  what  kind  of  a  story  ?  You  will  not  be  there 
to  hear  it.  But  the  tender  intellect,  already  suf- 
ficiently advanced  to  be  soothed  with  stories,  may 
imbibe  foolish,  or  vulgar,  or  frightful  imagef,  and 

I  take  their   colouring,  like  soft    wool,  sinking  in 


FIRST    LESSONS.  43 

Tyrian  purple.  "  Tell  her  a  story  /"  Why  that 
is  the  very  aliment  which  her  opening  mind 
seizes  with  the  greatest  eagerness.  And  you  are 
ignorant  whether  that  aliment  may  not  be  mingled 
with  corruption.  It  was  a  wise  man,  who  said 
he  cared  not  who  made  the  laws  of  a  nation,  if 
he  might  only  have  the  making  of  their  songs. 
With  greater  truth,  may  it  be  said  of  unfolding 
infancy ;  any  one  who  chooses  may  give  it  grave 
lessons,  but  look  out  for  its  story-tellers.  Thus 
it  is,  that  unfortunate  babes  are  terrified,  and  made 
to  dread  a  dark  room,  or  a  lonely  chamber,  until 
the  sleep  that  should  solace  them,  is  but  a  com- 
munion with  nameless  monsters,  and  they  are 
frightened  out  of  their  sweet  birthright,  the  fear- 
lessness of  innocence. 

Let  mothers  mingle  their  teachings,  with  smiles, 
and  the  dialect  of  love.  It  is  surprising  how  soon 
an  infant  learns  to  read  the  countenance,  how  it 
decyphers  the  charm  of  a  cheerful  spirit,  how  it 
longs  to  be  loved.  "Do  you  love  me  well?"  the 
musician  Mozart  asked  in  his  infancy,  of  all  the 
servants  of  his  father,  as  one  after  the  other,  they 
passed  him,  in  their  various  employments.  And 
if  any  among  them,  to  tease  him,  answered  "  no," 
he  covered  his  baby-face,  and  wept. 
•  A  little  deaf  and  dumb  boy,  selected  for  his 
favourite,  among  many  sisters,  her  who  possessed 
the  most  beaming  and  radiant  countenance.  In 


44  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

the  eloquent  idiom  of  that  peculiar  class  of  per- 
sons, he  said,  "  you  are  the  goddess  of  laughings, 
of  greatest  smiles,  of  smallest  smiles ;  so,  I  love 
you,  best  of  all." 

I  have  seldom  been  more  painfully  struck,  than 
with  the  woe-worn  countenance  of  a  silent  babe, 
by  the  side  of  its  miserable  mother,  in  the  State's- 
prison.  No  conversation  was  allowed,  among  the 
convicts.  Smiles,  are  not  the  dialect  of  guilt.  So, 
there  it  sat,  or  lay,  for  it  was  too  young  to  walk, 
with  its  wishful  eyes  ever  turned  on  her  who  had 
borne  it  in  sin,  and  who  had  no  heart  to  cheer  it, 
for  she  was  herself  wretched.  No  loving  word, 
aided  it  to  shape  its  discordant  articulations.  The 
baleful  breath  of  guilt,  seared  its  young  percep- 
tions, like  a  lava-stream.  I  longed  to  take  it  from 
the  bosom  of  crime,  and  from  those  haggard  and 
hateful  brows,  which  were  stamping  upon  it  their 
own  lineaments.  And  I  never  before  so  deeply  re- 
alized the  importance,  that  the  little  pilgrim  of  im- 
mortality should  be  taken  at  the  veiy  gate  of  life, 
into  an  atmosphere  of  innocence,  and  the  cradle 
of  love. 


MATERNAL    LOVE.  45 

. 


LETTER   V. 

MATERNAL    LOVE. 

To  love  children,  is  the  dictate  of  our  nature. 
Apart  from  the  promptings  of  kindred  blood,  it  is 
a  spontaneous  tribute  to  their  helplessness,  their 
innocence,  or  their  beauty.  The  total  absence  of 
this  love  induces  a  suspicion  that  the  heart  is  not 
right.  "  Beware,"  said  Lavater,  "  of  him  who  hates 
the  laugh  of  a  child."  "I  love  God,  and  every 
little  child,"  was  the  simple,  yet  sublime  sentiment 
of  Richter. 

The  man  of  the  world  pauses  in  his  absorbing 
career,  and  claps  his  hands,  to  gain  an  infant's 
smile.  The  victim  of  vice  gazes  wishfully  on  the 
pure,  open  forehead  of  childhood,  and  retraces  those 
blissful  years  that  were  free  from  guile.  The  man 
of  piety  loves  that  docility  and  singleness  of  heart, 
which  drew  from  his  Saviour's  lips  the  blessed 
words,  "  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

Elliot,  the  apostle  of  the  Indians,  amid  his  la- 
borious ministry,  and  rude  companionship,  shewed 
in  all  places  the  most  marked  attention  to  young 
children.  In  extreme  age,  when  his  head  was 


46  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

white  as  the  Alpine  snows,  he  felt  his  heart  warm 
at  their  approach.  Many  a  pastor,  whom  he  had 
assisted  to  consecrate,  bore  witness  to  the  pathos 
of  his  appeal,  the  solemnity  of  his  intonation,  when 
he  inquired,  "  Brother,  lovest  thou  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ?  Then  feed  these  lambs." 

The  love  of  children,  in  man  is  a  virtue:  in 
woman,  an  element  of  nature.  It  is  a  feature  of 
her  constitution,  a  proof  of  His  wisdom,  who,  hav- 
ing entrusted  to  her  the  burden  of  the  early  nur- 
ture of  a  whole  race,  gave  that  sustaining  power 
which  produces  harmony,  between  her  dispositions, 
and  her  allotted  tasks. 

To  love  children,  is  a  graceful  lineament  in 
the  character  of  young  ladies.  Anxious  as  they 
usually  are,  to  acquire  the  art  of  pleasing,  they 
are  not  always  aware  what  an  attraction  it  im- 
parts to  their  manners.  It  heightens  the  influ- 
ence of  beauty,  and  often  produces  a  strong  effect, 
where  beauty  is  wanting. 

"Love  children,"  said  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
in  her  advice  to  the  young  dauphiness ;  "  whether 
for  a  prince  or  a  peasant,  it  is  the  most  amiable 
accomplishment."  It  was  this  very  trait  in  her 
own  character,  that  won  the  heart  of  Louis  the 
Great.  When  she  was  governess  of  his  children, 
and  past  the  bloom  of  life,  he  surprised  her  one 
morning,  in  the  royal  nursery,  sustaining  with 
one  arm,  the  oldest  son,  then  feeble  from  the  ef- 


MATERNAL   LOVE.  47 

fects  of  a  fever,  rocking  with  the  other  hand  a 
cradle,  in  which  lay  the  infant  princess,  while  on 
her  lap  reposed  the  sleeping  infant.  His  tender- 
ness as  a  father,  and  his  susceptibility  as  a  man, 
accorded  that  deep  admiration  which  would  have 
been  denied  to  the  splendour  of  dress,  the  parade 
of  rank,  or  the  blaze  of  beauty. 

But  how  feeble  are  all  the  varieties  of  love, 
which  childhood  elicits,  compared  to  that  which 
exists  in  a  mother's  breast.  Examine,  I  pray  you, 
its  unique  nature,  by  contrast  and  comparison. 
We  are  wont  to  place  our  affections  where  our 
virtues  are  appreciated,  or  to  fix  our  reliance  where 
some  benefit  may  be  conferred.  But  maternal  love 
is  founded  on  utter  helplessness.  A  wailing  cry, 
a  foot  too  feeble  to  bear  the  burdens  of  the  body, 
an  eye  unable  to  distinguish  the  friend  who  feeds 
it,  a  mind  more  obtuse  than  the  new-born  lamb, 
which  discerns  its  mother  amid  the  flock,  or  the 
duckling  that  hastens  from  its  shell  to  the  stream, 
are  among  the  elements  of  which  it  is  compounded. 

It  is  able  also  to  subsist  without  aliment.  Other 
love  requires  the  interchange  of  words  or  smiles, 
some  beauty,  or  capability,  or  moral  fitness,  either 
existing,  or  supposed  to  exist.  It  is  wont,  as  it 
advances  in  ardour,  to  exact  a  vow  of  preference, 
above  all  the  world  beside,  and  if  need  be,  to  guard 
this  its  Magna  Charta,  with  the  sting  of  reproach, 
or  the  fang  of  jealousy.  It  is  scarcely  proof  against 


48  LETTERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

long  absence,  without  frequent  tokens  of  remem- 
brance, and  its  most  passionate  stage  of  existence 
may  be  checked  by  caprice. 

But  I  have  seen  a  mother's  love  endure  every 
test  unharmed,  and  come  forth  from  the  refiner's 
furnace,  purged  from  that  dross  of  selfishness,  which 
the  heart  is  wont  to  find,  among  its  purest  gold. 
A  widow  expended  on  her  only  son,  all  the  full- 
ness of  her  affection,  and  the  little  gains  of  her 
industry.  She  denied  herself  every  superfluity,  that 
he  might  receive  the  benefits  of  education,  and 
the  indulgences  that  boyhood  covets.  She  sat  si- 
lently by  her  small  fire,  and  lighted  her  single 
candle,  and  regarded  him  with  intense  delight,  as 
he  amused  himself  with  his  books,  or  sought  out 
the  lessons  for  the  following  day.  The  expenses 
of  his  school  were  discharged  by  the  labour  of 
her  hands,  and  glad  and  proud  was  she  to  be- 
stow on  him,  privileges,  which  her  own  youth 
had  never  been  permitted  to  share.  She  believed 
him  to  be  diligently  acquiring  the  knowledge  which 
she  respected,  but  was  unable  to  comprehend.  His 
teachers,  and  his  idle  companions,  knew  other- 
wise. He,  indeed,  learned  to  astonish  his  simple 
and  admiring  parent,  with  high-sounding  epithets, 
and  technical  terms,  and  to  despise  her  for  not 
understanding  them.  When  she  saw  him  discon- 
tented, at  comparing  his  situation  with  that  of 
others,  who  were  above  him  in  rank,  she  denied 


MATERNAL    LOVE.  49 

herself  almost  bread,  that  she  might  add  a  luxury 
for  his  table,  or  a  garment  to  his  wardrobe. 

She  erred  in  judgment,  and  he  in  conduct ;  but 
her  changeless  love  surmounted  all.  Still,  there 
was  little  reciprocity,  and  every  year  diminished 
that  little,  in  his  cold  and  selfish  heart.  He  re- 
turned no  caress ;  his  manners  assumed  a  cast  of 
defiance.  She  strove  not  to  perceive  the  altera- 
tion, or  sadly  solaced  herself  with  the  reflection, 
that  "it  was  the  nature  of  boys" 

He  grew  boisterous  and  disobedient.  His  re- 
turns to  their  humble  cottage  became  irregular. 
She  sat  up  late  for  him,  and  when  she  heard  his 
approaching  footstep,  forgot  her  weariness,  and  wel- 
comed him  kindly.  But  he  might  have  seen  re- 
proach written  on  the  paleness  of  her  loving  brow, 
if  he  would  have  read  its  language.  During  those 
long  and  lonely  evenings,  she  sometimes  wept  as 
she  remembered  him  in  his  early  years,  when  he 
was  so  gentle,  and  to  her  eye  so  beautiful.  "But 
this  is  the  nature  of  young-  men"  said  her  lame 
philosophy.  So,  she  armed  herself  to  bear. 

At  length,  it  was  evident  that  darker  vices  were 
making  him  their  victim.  The  habit  of  intempe- 
rance could  no  longer  be  concealed,  even  from  a 
love  that  blinded  itself.  The  widowed  mother 
remonstrated  with  unwonted  energy.  She  was 
answered  in  the  dialect  of  insolence  and  bru- 
tality. 

5 


60  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

He  disappeared  from  her  cottage.  What  she 
dreaded,  had  come  upon  her.  In  his  anger,  he 
had  gone  to  sea.  And  now,  every  night,  when 
the  tempest  howled,  and  the  wind  was  high,  she 
lay  sleepless,  thinking  of  him.  She  saw  him,  in 
her  imagination,  climbing  the  slippery  shrouds,  or 
doing  the  bidding  of  rough,  unfeeling  men.  Again, 
she  fancied  that  he  was  sick  and  suffering,  with 
none  to  watch  over  him,  or  have  patience  with 
his  waywardness,  and  her  head,  which  silver  hairs 
began  to  sprinkle,  gushed  forth,  as  if  it  were  a 
fountain  of  waters. 

But  hope  of  his  return  began  to  cheer  her. 
When  the  new  moon  looked  with  its  slender  cres- 
cent in  at  her  window,  she  said,  "  I  think  my  boy 
will  be  here,  ere  that  moon  is  old."  And  when 
it  waned  and  went  away,  she  sighed  and  said, 
"  my  boy  will  remember  me." 

Years  fled,  and  there  was  no  letter,  no  recog- 
nition. Sometimes  she  gathered  tidings  from  a 
comrade,  that  he  was  on  some  far  sea,  or  in  some 
foreign  land.  But  no  message  for  his  mother. 
When  he  touched  at  some  port  in  his  native 
country,  it  was  not  to  seek  her  cottage,  but  to 
spend  his  wages  in  revelry,  and  re-embark  on  a 
new  voyage. 

Weary  years,  and  no  letter.  Yet  she  had 
abridged  her  comforts,  that  he  might  be  taught 
to  write,  and  she  used  to  exhibit  his  penmanship 


MATERNAL    LOVE. 

with  such  pride.  But  she  dismissed  the  reproach- 
ful thought.  "  It  was  the  nature  of  sailors." 

Amid  all  these  years  of  neglect  and  cruelty, 
Love  lived  on.  When  Hope  refused  nourishment, 
she  asked  food  of  Memory.  She  was  satisfied  with 
the  crumbs  from  a  table  which  must  never  be  spread 
again.  Memory  brought  the  broken  -bread  which 
she  had  gathered  into  her  basket,  when  the  feast 
of  innocence  was  over,  and  Love  received  it  as 
a  mendicant,  and  fed  upon  it  and  gave  thanks, 
She  fed  upon  the  cradle-smile;  upon  the  first  ca- 
ress of  infancy;  upon  the  loving  years  of  child- 
hood, when,  putting  his  cheek  to  hers,  he  slum- 
bered the  live-long  night,  or  when  teaching  him 
to  walk,  he  tottered  with  outstretched  arms  to  her 
bosom,  as  a  new-fledged  bird  to  its  nest. 

But  Religion  found  this  lonely  widow,  and 
communed  with  her  at  deep  midnight,  while  the 
storm  was  raging  without.  It  told  her  of  a  "  name 
better  than  of  sons  or  of  daughters,"  and  she 
was  comforted.  It  bade  her  resign  herself  to  the 
will  of  her  Father  in  Heaven,  and  she  found 
peace. 

It  was  a  cold  evening  in  winter,  and  the  snow 
lay  deep  upon  the  earth.  The  widow  sat  alone 
by  her  little  fire-side.  The  marks  of  early  age 
had  settled  upon  her.  There  was  meekness  on 
her  brow,  and  in  her  hand  a  book  from  whence 
that  meekness  came. 


52  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

A  heavy  knock  shook  her  door,  and  ere  she 
could  open  it,  a  man  entered.  He  moved  with 
pain,  like  one  crippled,  and  his  red  and  downcast 
visage  was  partially  concealed  by  a  torn  hat. 
Among  those  who  had  been  familiar  with  his 
youthful  countenance,  only  one,  save  the  Being 
who  made  him,  could  have  recognized  him,  through 
his  disguise  and  misery.  The  mother  looking 
deep  into  his  eye,  saw  a  faint  tinge  of  that  fair 
blue,  which  had  charmed  her,  when  it  unclosed 
from  the  cradle-dream. 

"My  son!   My  son!" 

Had  the  prodigal  returned  by  a  late  repentance, 
to  atone  for  years  of  ingratitude  and  sin  ?  I  will 
not  speak  of  the  revels  that  shook  the  peaceful 
roof  of  his  widowed  parent,  or  of  the  profanity 
that  disturbed  her  repose.  The  remainder  of  his 
history  is  brief.  The  effects  of  vice  had  debilitated 
his  constitution,  and  once,  as  he  was  apparently 
recovering  from  a  long  paroxysm  of  intemperance, 
apoplexy  struck  his  heated  brain,  and  he  lay  a 
bloated  and  hideous  carcase. 

The  poor  mother  faded  away,  and  followed  him. 
She  had  watched  over  him,  with  a  meek,  nursing 
patience,  to  the  last.  Her  love  had  never  turned 
away  from  him,  through  years  of  neglect,  brutality, 
and  revolting  wickedness.  "Bearing  all  things, 
believing  all  things,  hoping  all  things,  enduring 
all  things,"  was  its  motto. 


MATERNAL   LOVE.  53 

Is  not  the  same  love  in  the  hearts  of  us  all, 
who  are  mothers?  And  wherefore  has  it  been 
placed  there,  that  deathless  love?  Sisters,  why  is 
it  placed  there? 

To  expend  itself  in  the  physical  care  of  our 
children,  in  the  indulgence  of  their  appetites?  A 
nurse,  or  a  servant,  might  do  this,  for  money. 
To  adorn  their  persons?  That  is  the  milliner's 
province.  To  secure  showy  accomplishments?  A 
fashionable  teacher  will  do  this  better.  To  spend 
itself  on  aught  that  earth  can  bestow?  I  pray 
you,  not  thus  to  degrade  its  essence  or  its  mission. 

The  wisdom  that  never  errs,  attempers  means 
to  ends.  It  proportions  the  strongest  affections  to 
the  greatest  needs.  It  arms  the  timid,  domestic 
bird,  with  an  eagle's  courage,  when  its  young  are 
to  be  defended.  It  has  implanted  in  our  bosoms 
a  love,  next  in  patience  to  that  of  a  Redeemer, 
that  we  may  perform  the  ministry  of  an  angel, 
and  help  to  people  with  angels  the  court  of 
Heaven. 


54  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 


LETTER   VI. 


WE  all  acknowledge  the  strength  of  habit.  Its 
power  increases  with  time.  In  youth,  it  may 
seem  to  us,  like  the  filmy  line  of  the  spider;  in 
age,  like  the  fly  caught  in  its  toils,  we  struggle 
in  vain.  "  Habit,  if  not  resisted,"  says  St.  Augus- 
tine, "becomes  necessity." 

The  physical  force  of  habit,  is  thus  clearly 
illustrated  by  Dr.  Combe:  "A  tendency  to  resume 
the  same  mode  of  action  at  stated  times,  is  pe- 
culiarly the  characteristic  of  the  nervous  system; 
and  on  this  account,  regularity  is  of  great  conse- 
quence in  exercising  the  moral  and  intellectual 
powers.  All  nervous  diseases  have  a  marked  ten- 
dency to  observe  regular  periods,  and  the  natural 
inclination  to  sleep  at  the  approach  of  night,  is 
another  instance  of  the  same  fact.  It  is  this  prin- 
ciple of  our  nature,  which  promotes  the  formation 
of  what  are  called  habits.  If  we  repeat  any  kind 
of  mental  effort  every  day  at  the  same  hour,  we 
at  last  find  ourselves  entering  upon  it,  without 
premeditation,  when  the  time  approaches." 


HABIT.  65 

This  law  of  our  nature,  which  is  so  often 
brought  to  bear  upon  intellectual  progress,  should 
be  enlisted  as  an  adjunct  in  moral  education. 
Can  we  be  too  attentive  to  the  habits  that  our 
children  form  1  too  assiduous  that  the  virtues 
which  we  cherish  in  them,  should  have  a  deep 
root  in  correct  principle?  We  wish  them  to  be- 
come benevolent.  The  proper  basis  of  their  bene- 
volence, is  sympathetic  feeling,  a  desire  for  the 
comfort  and  improvement  of  others,  in  conformity 
to  the  command  and  example  of  their  Heavenly 
Father. 

That  fine  sentiment  of  Terence,  "I  am  a  man, 
and  therefore  I  feel  for  all  mankind,"  might  be 
uttered  with  additional  emphasis  by  our  sex, 
whose  sympathies  should  be  ever  kept  in  action, 
by  our  own  infirmities,  dependences,  and  sorrows. 
Let  us  therefore,  in  our  domestic  teachings,  strive 
to  extirpate  selfishness,  especially  from  the  breasts 
of  our  daughters.  Selfishness  is  not  to  be  en- 
dured in  woman.  In  the  catalogue  of  her  faults, 
we  do  not  expect  to  have  forbearance  with  that. 
It  wars  with  the  nature  of  her  duties,  and  sub- 
verts her  happiness.  It  will  be  found  on  a  com- 
parative analysis  of  character,  that  those  females 
who  through  life  have  been  distinguished  for  true 
goodness,  were  eminently  disinterested. 

Forgetfulness  of  self,  and  that  amiable  temper 
which  at  once  ensures  and  imparts  happiness,  are 


56  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

not  adverse  to  decision  of  character.  On  the  con- 
trary, their  combination  is  natural,  and  necessary 
to  produce  high  excellence.  We  are  not  told  that 
the  disciple  who  leaned  on  the  breast  of  his 
Master,  was  deficient  in  decision  of  character, 
but  we  know  that  he  possessed  more  of  those 
amiable  virtues  which  engage  affection,  than  he, 
who  "sudden  and  quick  in  quarrel,"  drew  his 
sword,  and  smote  the  servant  of  the  high-priest. 
The  ardent  temperament,  which  prompted  the 
asseveration,  "though  I  die  with  thee,  I  will  not 
deny  thee,"  is  alluring ;  but  John  withstood  the 
shock  of  temptation,  when  Peter  fell. 

To  teach  the  science  of  self-government,  is  the 
great  end  of  education.  Every  hint,  to  assist  in 
promoting  a  correct  balance  of  feeling,  is  impor- 
tant to  the  mother.  She  will  probably,  some- 
times, be  annoyed,  by  a  tendency  to  peevishness, 
in  her  little  ones.  Let  her  be  doubly  watchful 
against  being  fretful  herself.  Nothing  is  sooner 
caught,  by  those  whose  virtues  are  feeble,  than 
the  language  of  complaint.  If  we  indulge  in  it 
ourselves,  how  can  we  hope  to  suppress  it  in  our 
children?  With  what  propriety  can  we  reprove 
them?  Let  us  check  in  their  presence,  every 
murmur  that  may  rise  to  our  lips,  and  teach 
them  by  our  own  cheerful  manner,  to  walk  with 
an  open  and  admiring  eye,  through  the  picture- 
gallery  of  life.  "Keep  aloof  from  sadness,"  says 


HABIT.  57 

an  Icelandic  writer,  of  the  12th  century,  "  for  sad- 
ness is  a  sickness  of  the  soul.  Men  would  often 
give  gold  to  buy  back  a  passionate  word,  and 
nothing  so  destroys  unity,  as  the  exchange  of  evil 
language." 

Kind  words,  and  affectionate  epithets,  between 
children  of  the  same  family,  are  delightful.  Though 
the  love  of  brothers  and  sisters  is  planted  .deep  in 
the  heart,  and  seldom  fails  to  reveal  itself  on  every 
trying  emergency,  yet  its  developements  and  daily 
interchange,  ask  the  regulation  of  paternal  care. 
Competitions  should  be  soothed,  differences  com- 
posed, and  forbearance  required,  on  the  broad 
principle  of  that  fraternal  duty,  which  God  has 
enjoined 

In  familiar  conversation,  examples  might  be 
quoted  from  history,  of  the  sweet  exercise  of  fra- 
ternal affection,  where  the  softening  influences  of 
the  Christian  religion  were  unknown.  Some  little 
listeners  were  once  very  pleasantly  impressed,  by 
hearing  the  story  of  the  love  of  the  Emperor 
Titus,  for  his  brother  Domitian.  It  was  the  more 
praise-worthy,  because  there  was  between  them  no 
congeniality  of  taste.  Domitian  often  spoke  un- 
kindly to  his  brother,  and  after  his  elevation  to 
the  throne,  even  attempted  to  instigate  the  army 
to  rebellion.  But  Titus  made  no  change  in  his 
treatment.  He  would  not  suffer  others  to  men- 
tion him  with  disrespect.  He  ever  spoke  of  him, 


58  LETTERS-  TO    MOTHERS. 

as  his  beloved  brother,  his  successor  to  the  em- 
pire. Sometimes,  when  they  were  alone,  he  ear- 
nestly entreated  him  with  tears,  to  reciprocate  that 
love  which  he  had  always  borne  him,  and  would 
continue  to  bear  him,  to  the  end  of  life.  This 
fraternal  attachment  was  the  more  affecting,  because 
exemplified  by  a  heathen,  and  partaking  of  the 
character  of  that  precept  of  the  religion  of  Jesus, 
to  "render  good  for  evil,"  which  he  could  never 
have  been  taught. 

The  deportment  of  the  older  children  of  the 
family,  is  of  great  importance  to  the  young- 
er. Their  obedience,  or  insubordination,  operates 
throughout  the  whole  circle.  Especially,  is  the  sta- 
tion of  the  eldest  daughter,  one  of  eminence.  She 
drank  the  first  draught  of  the  mother's  love.  She 
usually  enjoys  most  of  her  counsel,  and  compan- 
ionship. In  her  absence,  she  is  the  natural  vice- 
roy. Let  the  mother  take  double  pains  to  form 
her  on  a  correct  model ;  to  make  her  amiable, 
diligent,  domestic,  pious ;  trusting  that  the  image 
of  those  virtues,  may  leave  impression  on  the 
soft,  waxen  hearts  of  the  younger  ones,  to  whom 
she  may,  in  the  providence  of  God,  be  called  to  fill 
the  place  of  a  maternal  guide. 

Children  should  be  required  to  treat  domestics 
with  propriety.  Those,  on  whom  the  comfort  of  a 
family  so  essentially  depends,  are  entitled  to  kind- 
ness and  sympathy.  The  theory,  that  industry, 


HABIT.  59 

and  good  conduct,  are  worthy  of  respect,  in  what- 
ever rank  they  are  found,  cannot  be  too  early 
illustrated  and  enforced  on  the  members  of  a 
household.  "  Do  not  press  your  young  children 
into  book-learning,"  said  Spurzheim,  "but  teach 
them  politeness;"  meaning  the  whole  circle  of 
charities,  which  spring  from  the  consciousness  of 
what  is  due  to  their  fellow-beings. 

Be  careful  to  teach  your  children  gratitude. 
Lead  them  to  acknowledge  every  favour  that  they 
receive,  to  speak  of  their  benefactors,  and  to  re- 
member them  in  their  prayers.  Accustom  them 
to  distinguish  with  a  marked  regard,  their  instruc- 
tors, and  those  who  have  aided  them  in  the  attain- 
ment of  goodness  or  piety.  It  is  an  interesting 
circumstance  in  the  life  of  Ann,  Countess  of  Pem- 
broke, who  was  distinguished  more  than  two  cen- 
turies since,  by  her  learning,  her  decision  of  char- 
acter, the  languages  she  acquired,  and  the  honours 
she  enjoyed,  that  she  erected  a  monument  to  the 
memory  of  her  tutor,  and  always  spoke  of  him 
.with  the  most  affectionate  veneration,  as  her 
guide  in  the  rudiments  of  knowledge. 

Filial  love  should  be  cherished.  It  has  espe- 
cially, a  softening  and  ennobling  effect,  on  the  mas- 
culine heart.  It  has  been  remarked  that  almost 
all  illustrious  men,  have  been  distinguished  by  love 
for  their  mother.  It  is  mentioned  by  Miss  Pardoe, 
that  a  "  beautiful  feature  in  the  character  of  the 


60  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

Turks,  is  reverence  for  the  mother.  Their  wives 
may  advise  or  reprimand,  unheeded,  but  their 
mother  is  an  oracle,  consulted,  confided  in,  listened 
to  with  respect  and  deference,  honoured  to  the  latest 
hour,  and  remembered  with  affection  and  regret 
even  beyond  the  grave."  "  Wives  may  die,"  say 
they,  "and  we  can  replace  them,  children  perish, 
and  others  may  be  born  to  us,  but  who  shall 
restore  the  mother  when  she  passes  away,  and  is 
seen  no  more  ?" 

Gratitude  is  a  principal  ingredient  in  filial  affec- 
tion. It  often  reveals  itself  in  a  most  touching 
manner,  when  parents  moulder  in  the  dust.  It 
induces  obedience  to  their  precepts,  and  tender 
love  for  their  memory.  A  little  boy  was  once 
passing  the  ornamented  garden  of  a  rich  man. 
He  was  observed  to  look  earnestly  and  wishfully 
at  some  sprouts,  that  were  germinating  on  the 
trunk  of  an  old  poplar.  On  being  asked  what  he 
wanted,  he  said,  "My..rnpther  loved  flowers,  and 
every  green,  living  thing.  She  has  been  dead  two 
years,  yet  I  have  never  planted  one  where  she 
sleeps.  I  often  wish  to.  I  was  just  thinking  how 
pretty,  one  of  these  would  look  there."  The  gen- 
tleman kindly  gave  him  a  rose-bush,  and  the  fresh 
wand  of  a  weeping  willow.  Then  the  poor,  little 
fellow  lifted  up  his  streaming  eyes,  and  gave 
thanks  in  a  broken  voice  for  himself,  and  for  his 
dear,  dead  mother. 


HABIT.  61 

In  developing  the  character  of  our  children,  let 
us  ever  keep  in  view  their  distinct  departments, 
sentient,  social,  intellectual,  accountable ;  and  give 
nutriment,  and  exercise,  to  each.  Let  us  make 
them  industrious,  as  a  means  of  happiness,  and  a 
safeguard  from  temptation.  The  value  of  time 
should  be  taught  them,  even  of  its  smallest  parti- 
cles. Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  enforcing  the  senti- 
ment of  Franklin,  that  "  time  is  money,"  has  well 
added,  "when  we  change  a  guinea,  the  shillings 
escape,  as  things  of  small  account ;  so  when  we 
break  a  day  by  idleness  in  the  morning,  the  rest 
of  the  hours  lose  their  importance  in  our  eyes." 
But  from  the  highest  of  all  motives,  that  for  our 
days,  hours,  and  moments,  we  must  give  account 
to  God,  should  we  warn  our  children  to  improve 
their  time,  and  dread  to  waste  it. 

Yet  not  in  studies  above  their  years,  or  in  irk- 
some tasks,  should  children  be  employed.  The 
joyous  freshness  of  their  young  natures  should  be 
preserved,  while  they  learn  the  duties  that  fit  them 
for  this  life,  and  the  next.  Wipe  away  their 
tears.  Remember,  how  hurtful  are  heavy  rains  to 
the  tender  blossom  just  opening  on  the  day.  Cher- 
ish their  smiles.  Let  them  learn  to  draw  happiness 
from  all  surrounding  objects :  since  there  may  be 
some  mixture  of  happiness  in  every  thing  but  sin. 
It  was  once  said  of  a  beautiful  woman,  that  from 
her  childhood,  she  had  ever-  spoke  smiling,  as  if 
6 


62  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

the  heart  poured  joy  upon  the  lips,  and  they 
turned  it  into  beauty. 

May  I  be  forgiven,  for  so  repeatedly  pressing 
on  mothers,  to  wear  the  lineaments  of  cheerful- 
ness? "To  be  good,  and  disagreeable,  is  high- 
treason  against  the  royalty  of  virtue,"  said  a  cor- 
rect moralist.  How  much  is  it  to  be  deprecated, 
//  when  _pietyr_Ae_  only  fountain  of  tru^Joy,  fails 
of  making  that  joy  visible  to  every  one.  If  hap- 
piness is  melody  of  soul,  the  concord  of  our  feel- 
ings with  the  circumstances  of  our  lot,  the  harmony 
of  our  whole  being,  with  the  will  of  the  Creator, 
how  desirable  that  this  melody  should  produce  the 
response  of  sweet  tones,  and  a  smiling  counte- 
nance, that  even  slight  observers  may  be  won 
by  the  charm  of  its  external  symbols. 

A  mother,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  asking  her 
/  children,  before  they  retired  at  night,  what  they 
had  done  through  the  day,  to  make  others  happy, 
found  her  young  twin-daughters  silent.  The  old- 
er ones  spoke  modestly  of  deeds  and  dispositions, 
founded  on  the  golden  rule,  "do  unto  others,  as 
you  would  that  they  should  do  unto  you."  Still 
those  little,  bright  faces,  were  bowed  down  in  se- 
rious silence.  The  question  was  repeated.  "I 
can  remember  nothing  good,  all  this  day,  dear 
mother.  Only,  one  of  my  school-mates  was 
happy,  because  she  had  gained  the  head  of  the 
class,  and  I  smiled  on  her,  and  ran  to  kiss 


HABIT.  63 

her.  So  she  said  I  was  good.  This  is  all,  dear 
mother." 

The  other  spoke  still  more  timidly.  "A  little 
girl  who  sat  by  me,  on  the  bench  at  school,  had 
lost  a  baby-brother.  I  saw  that  while  she  studied 
her  lesson,  she  hid  her  face  in  the  book  and  wept. 
I  felt  sorry,  and  laid  my  face  on  the  same  book, 
and  wept  with  her.  Then  she  looked  up,  and 
was  comforted,  and  put  her  arms  round  my  neck. 
But  I  do  not  know  why  she  said,  that  I  had  done 
her  good." 

The  mother  knew  how  to  prize  the  first  blos- 
somings of  sympathy.  She  said,  "Come  to  my 
arms,  beloved  ones ;  to  rejoice  with  those  who  re- 
joice, and  weep  with  those  who  weep,  is  to  obey 
our  blessed  Redeemer." 

Mothers,  whatever  you  wish  your  children  to 
become,  strive  to  exhibit  in  your  own  lives  and 
conversation.  Do  not  send  them  into  an  unex- 
plored country,  without  a  guide.  Put  yourselves 
at  their  head.  Lead  the  way,  like  Moses,  through 
the  wilderness,  to  Pisgah.  The  most  certain  mode 
for  you  to  fix  habits,  is  the  silent  ministry  of  ex- 
ample. Thus  impressed  on  the  young  mind, 
amid  the  genial  atmosphere  of  a  happy  fire-side, 
they  become  incorporated  with  established  trains 
of  thought,  and  with  the  elements  of  being.  They 
have  their  jjand  upon  the  soul,  till  through  the  grave, 
and  gate  of  death,  it  goes  forth  to  the  judgment. 


64  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

I  knew  the  children  of  a  family,  who  seemed 
always  amiable.  Their  countenances  wore  the 
sunshine  of  the  heart.  Among  their  young  as- 
sociates, they  were  obliging  and  kind.  If  there 
were  mischief  or  trouble  in  school,  they  had 
neither  "  part  or  lot  in  the  matter."  Wherever 
they  visited,  not  only  their  friends  in  the  parlour, 
but  the  servants  loved  them,  and  wished  them  to 
continue  long  their  guests.  Those  who  were 
married,  diffused  throughout  their  households  the 
spirit  of  order  and  happiness.  On  enquiring  how 
they  had  been  educated,  I  found  that  the  mother 
had  kept  them  much  with  herself,  during  the  most 
plastic  period  of  their  existence,  and  that  the  rules 
which  she  had  given  them,  had  regulated  her  own 
conduct.  The  quiet  beauty  of  example,  and  the 
influences  of  a  happy  fire-side,  were  the  machi- 
nery which  she  had  used,  to  render  them  amiable, 
benevolent  and  pious. 

A  standard  of  good  manners  should  be  estab- 
lished in  the  family-circle.  We  appreciate  the 
value  of  such  manners,  in  mixed  society.  They 
are  a  letter  of  credit,  in  the  hand  of  a  stranger. 
So  much  is  every  person  subject  to  their  fascina- 
tion, that  the  unworthy  study  to  acquire  them,  as 
a  means  of  ensnaring  their  prey.  Why  should 
the  wife,  or  the  husband,  lay  aside  those  courte- 
sies, which  are  associated  with  the  giowth,  per- 
haps with  the  birth,  of  their  love?  Some  writer 


HABIT.  65 

has  remarked  that  the  cardinal  duties  are  claimed 
as  rights,  but  the  refined  attentions,  the  watchful 
kindnesses,  which  make  the  stream  of  domestic 
life  so  sparkling,  will  ever  rank  as  precious  favours, 
which  it  is  ungenerous  to  omit.  They  ought  not 
indeed,  to  be  omitted,  were  it  only  for  the  sake  of 
the  children,  whose  eyes  are  ever  fixed  upon  the 
parents,  in  the  spirit  of  imitation.  It  is  not  wise 
to  exact  from  those  little  beings,  the  forms  of  eti- 
quette, which  ceremonious  intercourse  prescribes. 
They  too  often  demand  the  sacrifice  of  honesty 
of  speech,  and  originality  of  character.  Such 
observances  vary  with  ranks,  countries,  and  ages 
of  the  world,  but  the  principles  of  true  politeness 
are  the  same,  resting  on  good  will  to  man,  and 
pointing  to  that  more  glorious  attainment,  the  love 
of  God. 

It  was  a  high  testimony  to  the  fine  manners  of 
Mrs.  Macauley,  the  accomplished  historian,  which 
was  once  borne  by  an  intimate  friend :  "  I  have 
seen  her  exalted  on  the  dangerous  pinnacle  of 
prosperity,  surrounded  by  flattering  friends,  and 
an  admiring  world.  I  have  seen  her  marked  out 
by  prejudice,  as  an  object  of  dislike  and  ridicule. 
I  have  seen  her  bowed  down,  by  bodily  pain  and 
weakness.  But  never  did  I  see  her  forget  the 
urbanity  of  a  lady,  the  conscious  dignity  of  a 
rational  being,  or  fervent  aspirations  after  the 
highest  degree  of  attainable  perfection." 


66  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

Perhaps,  we  reflect  too  little  on  the  courteous- 
ness  of  Jesus,  our  Master  and  Exemplar.  "  When 
ye  come  into  an  house,"  said  he,  "  salute  it."  We 
all  know,  that  the  oriental  modes  of  salutation 
involved  much  more  of  ceremony  than  our  own. 
Still,  the  Saviour,  who  ever  decried  the  giving 
of  undue  honour  to  men,  sanctions  and  enjoins 
them  at  the  entrance  of  every  dwelling.  Neither 
are  these  marks  of  respect  to  be  reserved  for 
those  whom  we  best  love,  or  most  desire  to  con- 
ciliate. "If  ye  salute  your  brethren  only,  what 
do  ye  more  than  others?  Do  not  even  the  pub- 
licans so?"  The  inference  is  obvious,  that  all 
should  be  treated  with  respectful  regard,  as  beings 
formed  by  the  same  Creator,  children  of  one  great 
family. 

From  his  disciples,  though  not  educated'in  re- 
finement, or  called  from  among  the  ranks  of  the 
rich  and  noble,  do  we  not  receive  the  same  in- 
struction? Was  it  not  a  humble  fisherman,  who 
inspired  by  the  religion  of  the  skies,  said,  "  be 
courteous?"  The  courtesy  of  a  Christian  is  no 
trifling  part  of  education.  Mothers,  teach  it  to 
your  children. 

Let  us,  during  the  whole  process  of  their  edu- 
cation, feel  and  fear  the  omnipotence  of  habit. 
For  if  the  toiling  atom  beneath  the  waters  is 
able  to  construct  a  reef  which  may  make  the 
proudest  ship  a  wreck,  shall  we  dare  to  look 


HABIT.  67 

upon  the  slightest  evil  habit,  and  say  it  is  harm- 
Jess  1  Though  its  work  may  have  been  done 
secretly  as  under  the  flood,  yet  the  cry  of  a  lost 
soul  may  be  its  herald  at  the  judgment. 


68  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

LETTER   VII. 

HEALTH. 

WE  have  all  of  us  seen,  with  pity  and  regret, 
a  sickly  mother,  burdened  with  the  cares  of  her 
household.  She  has  felt  that  there  were  em- 
ployments which  no  one  could  discharge  as  well 
as  herself;  modifications  of  duty,  in  which  the 
interest  of  her  husband,  the  welfare  of  her  chil- 
dren, the  comfort  of  her  family,  were  concerned, 
which  could  not  be  deputed  to  another,  without 
loss.  Therefore,  she  continues  to  exert  herself, 
above,  and  beyond  her  strength. 

Still,  her  step  is  languid,  and  her  eye  joyless. 
The  "spirit  indeed  is.  willing,  but  the  flesh  is 
weak."  Her  little  ones  observe  her  dejected  man- 
ner, and  grow  sad.  Or,  they  take  advantage  of 
her  want  of  energy,  and  become  lawless.  She, 
herself,  cannot  long  persist  in  a  course  of  labour, 
that  involves  expense  of  health,  without  some 
mental  sympathy.  The  most  amiable  temper  will 
sometimes  become  irritable,  or  complaining,  when 
the  shrinking  nerves  require  rest,  and  the  demands 
of  toil,  and  the  claims  upon  painful  thought,  are 


HEALTH.  69 

perpetual.  Efforts,  which,  to  one  in  health,  are 
like  dew-drops  shaken  from  the  eagle's  wing,  seem 
to  the  invalid,  like  the  ascent  of  the  Alps,  or  like 
heaping  Pelion  upon  Ossa. 

Admitting  that  a  sickly  woman  has  sufficient 
self-controul,  to  repel  the  intrusion  of  fretfulness, 
and  preserve  a  subdued  equanimity,  this,  though 
certainly  deserving  of  praise,  is  falling  short  of 
what  she  would  wish  to  attain.  The  meek  look 
of  resignation,  though  it  may  cost  her  much  to 
maintain,  is  not  all  that  a  husband  wishes,  who, 
coming  from  the  vexed  atmosphere  of  business 
or  ambition,  would  fain  find  in  his  home,  the 
smile  of  cheerfulness,  the  playful  charm  of  a 
mind  at  ease.  Men  prize  more  than  we  are 
aware,  the  health-beaming  countenance,  the  elas- 
i  tic  step,  and  all  those  demonstrations  of  domes- 
tic order,  in  which  unbroken  activity  delights. 
They  love  to  see  a  woman  equal  to  her  own 
duties,  and  performing  them  with  pleasure.  They 
do  not  like  to  have  the  principal  theme  of  domes- 
tic conversation  a  detail  of  physical  ills,  or  to  be 
expected  to  question  like  a  physician,  into  the 
variety  of  symptoms  which  have  supervened  since 
their  departure.  Or  if  this  is  occasionally  borne 
with  a  good  grace,  where  ill  health  is  supposed 
to  be  temporary,  yet  the  saddening  effects  of  an 
enfeebled  constitution  cannot  always  be  resisted, 
by  him  who  expected  in  his  wife  a  "  yoke-fellow," 


70  LETTERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

able  to  endure  the  rough  roads  and  sharp  ascents 
of  life.  A  nature,  possessing  great  capacities  for 
sympathy  and  tenderness,  may  doubtless  be  im- 
proved by  the  exercise  of  those  capacities.  Still 
the  good  gained,  is  only  from  the  patient,  or  per- 
haps, the  Christian  endurance  of  a  disappointment. 
But  where  those  capacities  do  not  exist,  and 
where  religious  principle  is  absent,  the  perpetual 
influence  of  a  sickly  and  mournful  wife  is  as  a 
blight  upon  those  prospects  which  allure  men  to 
matrimony.  Follies,  and  lapses  into  vice,  may  be 
sometimes  traced  to  those  sources  which  robe 
home  in  gloom. 

There  are,  indeed,  instances  of  manly  affection 
so  generous  and  devoted,  as  never  to  be  weary  of 
the  office  of  a  comforter,  where  years  of  helpless 
sickness  in  the  object  of  its  choice  have  only  the 
effect  of  increasing  its  own  fervid  constancy.  We 
have,  doubtless,  all  witnessed  it,  and  felt  that  it 
was  above  earthly  praise.  Yet,  there  is  often  so 
much  of  political  economy,  mingling  with  matri- 
mony, that  though  the  combination  cannot  be  com- 
mended, it  is  still  necessary  to  take  the  world 
much  as  we  find  it,  and  adapt  precepts  rather  to 
the  general  state  of  things,  than  to  those  beautiful 
exceptions,  which  are  "few,  and  far  between." 

We  have  often  beheld  sickness  endured  with 
such  angelic  serenity,  with  so  evident  a  brighten- 
ing of  every  Christian  grace,  that  the  healthful 


HEALTH.  71 

and  happy  have  sought  its  chamber  of  discipline, 
feeling  that  it  was  as  the  "very  gate  of  heaven." 
The  smile  of  chastened  resignation  has  a  beauty,  ^ 
an  eloquence,  which  the  flush  of  prosperity  may 
not  boast.     The  young,  seated  by  the  pillow  of 
such  a  monitor,  are  in  the  way  of  wisdom.     Suf-  \X 
fering  endured  with  holy  acquiescence,  sublimates 
the  character  and  conforms  it  to  its  Divine  Ex- 
emplar. 

Still  I  have  thought  it  right  to  give  a  strong 
delineation  of  the  disappointed  earthly  hope,  which 
a  broken  constitution  often  creates^that  I  might  i-"" 
incite  mothers  to  early  attention  to  the  health  of 
their  daughters,  "  if  by  any  means,  I  might  provoke 
to  emulation,  these  which  are  my  flesh,  and  might 
save  some  of  them." 

But  if  to  manhood,  the  influence  of  perpetual 
debility,  in  the  partner  of  its  joys,  is  so  dispiriting, 
how  much  more  oppressive  is  it  to  those  little  ones, 
who  are  by  nature  allied  to  gladness.  Childhood, 
whose  birthright  is  its  innocent  joy,  must  hush 
its  sportive  laugh,  and  repress  its  merry  footstep, 
as  if  its  plays  were  sins.  Or  if  the  diseased  nerves 
of  the  mother  do  not  habitually  impose  such  sacri- 
fices, it  learns  from  nature's  promptings,  to  fashion 
its  manners,  or  its  voice,  or  its  countenance,  after 
the  melancholy  model  of  the  sufferer  whom  it 
loves,  and  so  forfeits  its  beautiful  heritage  of 
young  delight.  Those  sicknesses  to  which  the 


72  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

most  robust  are  subject,  by  giving  exercise  to 
self-denial,  and  offices  of  sympathy  from  all  the 
members  of  a  household,  are  doubtless,  often  bless- 
ed as  the  means  of  improvement,  and  the  messen- 
gers which  draw  more  closely  the  bonds  of  true 
affection. 

But  it  must  be  sufficiently  obvious,  that  I  speak 
of  that  want  of  constitutional  vigour,  or  of  that 
confirmed  feebleness  of  habit,  which  either  create 
inability  for  the  duties,  which  in  our  country  de- 
volve upon  a  wife,  a  mother,  and  mistress  of  a 
family,  or  cause  them  to  be  discharged  in  languor 
and  wretchedness.  And  I  speak  of  them,  that  the 
attention  of  those,  who  conduct  the  earliest  phy- 
sical education  of  females,  may  be  quickened  to 
search  how  evils  of  such  magnitude  may  be 
obviated. 

Mothers,  is  there  any  thing  we  can  do,  to  ac- 
quire for  our  daughters  a  good  constitution  ?  Is 
there  truth  in  the  sentiment  sometimes  repeated, 
that  our  sex  is  becoming  more  and  more  effemi- 
nate? Are  we  as  capable  of  enduring  hardship 
as  our  grand-mothers  were  ?  Are  we  as  well 
versed  in  the  details  of  house-keeping,  as  able  to 
bear  them  without  fatigue,  as  our  mothers  ?  Have 
our  daughters  as  much  stamina  of  constitution, 
as  much  aptitude  for  domestic  duty,  as  we  our- 
selves possess?  These  questions  are  not  interest- 
ing to  us  simply  as  individuals.  They  affect  the 


HEALTH.  73 

welfare  of  the  community.     For  the  ability  or  in- 
ability of  woman  to  discharge  what  the  Almighty 
has  committed  to  her,  touches  the  equilibrium  of    vx 
society,  and  the  hidden  springs  of  existence. 

Tenderly  interested  as  we  are  for  the  health 
of  our  offspring,  let  us  devote  peculiar  attention 
to  that  of  our  daughters.  Their  delicate  frames 
require  more  care,  in  order  to  become  vigorous, 
and  are  in  more  danger  through  the  prevalence 
of  fashion.  Frequent  and  thorough  ablutions,  a 
simple  and  nutritious  diet,  we  undoubtedly  secure 
for  all  our  children. 

But  I  plead  for  the  little   girl,  that  she   may 
have  air  and  exercise,  as  well  as  her  brother,  and 
that  she  may  not  be  too  much  blamed,  if  in  her 
earnest  play  she  happen  to  tear,  or  soil  her  ap- 
parel.    I  plead  that   she   be   not  punished  as  a 
romp,    if   she    keenly   enjoy   those    active   sports 
which  city  gentility  proscribes.     I  plead  that  the 
ambition  to  make  her  accomplished,  do  not  chain 
her  to  her  piano,   till  the  spinal   column  which      Q^ 
should   consolidate  the   frame,  starts  aside  like  a  ^  V^vC/^ 
broken  reed;  nor  bow  her  over  her  book,  till  the        o^3 
vital  energy  which  ought  to  pervade  the  whole 
system,  mounts   into   the  brain,   and  kindles   the 
death-fever. 

Mothers,  if  you  would  do  your  duty,  get  a  trea- 
tise on  Anatomy,   and   become   familiar  with  its 
rudiments.     At  least,  acquaint  yourself  with  the 
7 


74  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

physiology  of  the  skin,  the  lungs,  the  circulation 
of  the  blood,  and  the  digestive  organs.  I  cannot 
flatter  myself  that  I  am  imparting  any  thing  new, 
when  I  mention  that  the  former  is  composed  of 
three  laminae  or  layers,  and  that  the  inner  one  is 
a  tissue  of  nerves  and  blood-vessels,  so  minute, 
that  the  point  of  the  finest  needle  cannot  be 
introduced  without  puncturing  some  of  them. 
Through  these  ever-open,  and  invisible  pores,  the 
waste  matter  of  our  continually  changing  bodies 
escapes,  equalling  in  weight  more  than  twenty 
ounces  every  twenty-four  hours.  This  evacua- 
tion, if  checked,  so  overtaxes  other  excretory  or- 
gans, as  to  produce  disease,  and  if  retained  on 
the  surface,  and  returned  through  the  absorbents, 
acts  as  a  poison  in  the  system.  Daily  and  entire 
ablution,  with  correspondent  friction,  is  necessary 
to  preserve  in  a  healthful  state,  an  organ  of  such 
great  importance  to  the  animal  economy. 

The  sympathy  between  the  skin  and  lungs  is 
so  established,  and  intimate,  that  a  neglected  state 
of  the  former  has  much  to  do  with  the  produc- 
tion and  progress  of  pulmonary  disease,  that  fre- 
quent and  favourite  messenger  of  death.  Food, 
after  being  received  into  the  stomach,  sends  forth 
its  nutritive  portions,  in  the  form  of  chyle,  to  be 
mingled  with  the  blood.  This  junction  is  formed 
at  the  right  side  of  the  heart,  but  the  mixture  of 
new  and  old  fluid  is  not  fitted  to  sustain  life,  until 


HEALTH.  75 

propelled  through  the  left  side  of  the  heart,  it  is 
submitted  by  the  agency  of  the  lungs  to  the  air. 
Then  taking  its  true  colour,  it  is  transmitted 
through  the  arteries  to  the  most  remote  extremity, 
and  called  back  ugain  from  its  life-giving  visits, 
to  pass  review  in  its  sleepless  citadel.  Thus  the 
whole  volume  of  blood,  which  in  an  adult  is 
from  three  to  four  gallons,  passes  once  every 
three  minutes  through  the  heart,  on  its  way  to 
and  from  the  lungs.  And  those  unresting  la- 
bourers, the  heart  and  lungs,  from  the  first  mo- 
ment of  existence,  till  we  return  to  dust,  continue 
their  labours,  independent  of  our  volition,  won- 
drous symbols  of  that  Almighty  goodness,  which, 
whether  we  wake  or  sleep,  is  "new  every  morn- 
ing, fresh  every  moment." 

Outlines  of  the  mysterious  mechanism  of  our 
clay-temple,  we  ought  certainly  to  study,  that  we 
need  not,  through  ignorance,  interfere  with  those 
laws  on  which  its  organization  depends.  Ren- 
dered precious,  by  being  the  shrine  of  an  undying 
spirit,  our  ministrations  for  its  welfare  assume  an 
almost  fearful  importance.  Appointed  as  the  mother 
is,  to  guard  the  harmony  of  its  architecture,  to 
study  the  arts  on  which  its  symmetry  depends, 
she  is  forced  to  perceive  how  much  the  mind  is 
affected  by  the  circumstances  of  its  lodgement, 
and  is  incited  to  cherish  the  mortal,  for  the  sake 
of  the  immortal. 


76  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

Does  she  attach  value  to  the  gems  of  intel- 
lect? Let  her  see  that  the  casket  which  contains 
them,  be  not  lightly  endangered,  or  carelessly 
broken.  Does  she  pray  for  the  welfare  of  the 
soul?  Let  her  seek  the  good  of  its  companion, 
who  walks  with  it  to  the  gate  of  the  grave,  and 
rushes  again  to  its  embrace  on  the  morning  of 
the  resurrection. 

As  the  testimony  of  medical  men  has  de- 
servedly great  weight,  on  subjects  of  this  nature, 
permit  me  to  offer  to  the  attention  of  mothers  a 
few  passages  from  Dr.  Comstock's  Physiology: 

"  It  is  well  known  to  physiologists,  that  if  pres- 
sure be  made,  and  continued  on  any  part  of  the 
system,  the  part  so  pressed,  will  be  gradually  di- 
minished. Thus,  if  one  limb  be  tightly  bandaged, 
for  a  length  of  time,  it  will  become  smaller  than 
the  other. 

"  To  understand  the  reason  of  this,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  state,  that  every  part  of  the  system  is 
furnished  with  two  sets,  or  kinds  of  vessels,  called 
capillaries ;  one  set  being  designed  to  secrete,  or 
produce;  the  other,  to  absorb,  or  remove.  In  the 
living  animal,  both  these  kinds  are  constantly  per- 
forming their  opposite  functions. 

"  The  flesh,  and  all  the  other  parts  of  the  body, 
are  formed  by  the  secretory  system,  which  con- 
sists of  the  fine  extremities  of  the  arteries.  The 
food  being  converted  into  chyle,  by  the  process 


HEALTH.  77 

of  digestion,  is  conveyed  into  the  circulation,  to 
be  converted  into  blood.  From  the  blood  thus, 
formed,  the  secreting  vessels  produce  all  the  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  substance,  of  which  the  several 
parts  of  the  animal  system  are  composed ;  one  di- 
vision forming  flesh,  another  cartilage,  and  another 
bone. 

"  On  the  contrary,  the  absorbent  system  takes  up 
the  various  fluids,  which  are  either  employed  in 
the  process  of  secretion,  or,  having  performed  that 
office,  are  to  be  conveyed  out  of  the  body.  The 
absorbents  take  up  the  chyle,  by  millions  of  mouths, 
and  deliver  it  into  the  circulation.  They  also 
absorb  the  superabundant  moisture,  which  is  se- 
creted in  eveiy  interior  part  of  the  body;  and 
consequently,  did  they  cease  to  act,  this  watery 
fluid  would  accumulate,  and  an  universal  dropsy 
ensue.  This  disease  is  owing  to  the  deficient 
action  of  the  absorbents. 

"Such  being  the  appropriate  functions  of  these 
two  great  systems  of  vessels,  distributed  in  every 
part  of  the  animal  frame,  it  is  plain,  that  the  iden- 
tical particles  of  which  they  are  composed,  are 
perpetually  changing,  so  that  in  this  respect,  we 
are  not  the  same  individuals  now  that  we  were 
formerly,  nor  will  our  bodies,  at  a  future  time, 
contain  a  particle  of  the  identical  matter  which 
they  do  at  this  moment.  In  childhood  and  youth, 
while  the  frame  is  growing,  the  secretion  js.  greater 


78  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

than  the  absorption ;  in  adults,  and  the  middle 
aged,  the  effects  of  the  two  systems  are  equal ; 
but  in  old  age,  the  absorption  is  greater  than  the 
secretion :  hence,  the  weight  and  dimensions  of 
the  body  are  diminished,  and  the  skin,  instead  of 
preserving  its  tension,  becomes  wrinkled,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  loss  of  a  part  of  the  bulk  it  had 
been  accustomed  to  cover. 

"In  applying  these  principles  to  the  use  of  stays, 
it  is  almost  unnecessary  to  say,  that  during  the 
growth  of  the  system,  pressure  on  any  of  its 
parts,  though  it  be  inconsiderable  in  force,  yet,  if 
long  continued,  will  prevent  their  increase;  and 
this,  not  only  for  want  of  room  to  expand,  but 
also,  by  interfering  with  the  functions  of  the  se- 
creting system  in  that  part.  Beside  this  obvious 
effect  of  confinement,  during  the  growth  of  the 
system,  it  is  well  known,  that  in  the  adult,  as  well 
as  in  the  young,  pressure  will  also  diminish  any 
part  on  which  it  is  made.  Not  only  the  soft  and 
fleshy  portions  may  be  thus  absorbed  and  removed, 
but  even  the  bones  do  not  resist  the  power  of 
these  minute  vessels ;  portions  of  their  solid  parts 
being  sometimes  carried  away  by  their  action. 

"  The  pressure  of  stays  around  the  waist,  it  is 
quite  clear,  from  the  foregoing  principles,  must, 
in  youth,  and  while  the  system  is  growing,  pre- 
vent the  full  developement  of  the  muscles  of  the 
back,  by  presenting  an  impediment  to  their  in- 


HEALTH.  79 

crease  of  bulk.  Even  if  not  assumed,  till  the  sys- 
tem has  nearly  or  quite  attained  its  full  size,  as 
at  the  age  of  sixteen,  or  nineteen,  still  the  conse- 
quences may  be  equally  pernicious,  since  the  form, 
in  this  case,  will  be  supposed  to  require  a  degree 
of  tension  in  the  lacing-cords,  somewhat  propor- 
tionate to  the  time  they  have  been  omitted.  The 
effect  will  therefore  be,  to  increase  the  absorption, 
and  diminish  the  secretion  of  the  parts  pressed 
upon,  and  thus  to  reduce  the  bulk,  and,  conse- 
quently, the  strength  and  vigour  of  the  muscles. 

"  Now,  the  spinal  column  is  chiefly  supported  in 
its  erect  position  by  those  strong  muscles  of  the 
back,  called  the  dorsal  muscles ;  and  if,  by  any 
means,  these  are  diminished  in  bulk,  or  vigour, 
the  spine  will  inevitably  become  distorted ;  and, 
as  we  have  shown  that  tight  lacing  produces  the 
first  effect,  so  it  is  equally  certain  that  the  last 
will  follow. 

"We  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  mere  ex- 
travagances, or  follies,  if  they  exist,  of  the  female 
costume  in  the  present  day;  our  design  being 
only  to  speak  of  such  fashions,  or  habits  of  dress- 
ing, as  produce  deformity  and  disease:  and  on 
these  subjects,  there  are  facts  so  common  and  so 
deplorable,  that  they  ought  to  induce  thousands 
to  raise  their  voices  and  their  authority  against 
the  practices  to  which  their  origin  is  so  plainly 
to  be  traced." 


80  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

Counselled  clearly  as  we  have  thus  been,  on 
the  tendency  of  compression,  to  produce  diseases 
of  the  spine,  we  ought  to  be  ever  awake  to  its 

v  danger  in  the  region  of  the  heart  and  lungs.  A 
slight  ligature  there,  in  the  earlier  stages  of  life, 
is  fraught  with  danger.  To  disturb  or  impede 
those  labourers,  who  turn  the  wheels  of  life,  both 
night  and  day,  how  absurd  and  ungrateful.  Sam- 
son was  bound  in  fetters,  and  ground  in  the 
prison-house,  for  a  while,  but  at  length  he  crushed 
the  pillars  of  the  temple,  and  the  lords  of  the 
Philistines  perished  with  him.  Nature,  though  she 
may  be  long  in  resenting  a  wrong,  never  forgets 

v  it.  Against  those  who  violate  her  laws,  she  often 
rises  as  a  giant  in  his  might,  and  when  they 
least  expect  it,  inflicts  a  fearful  punishment. 

Fashion  seems  long  enough  to  have  attacked 
health  in  its  strong-holds.  She  cannot  even  prove 
that  she  has  rendered  the  form  more  graceful,  as 
some  equivalent  for  her  ravages.  In  ancient 

'<*  Greece,  to  whom  our  painters  and  sculptors  still 
look  for  the  purest  models,  was  not  the  form  left 
untutored?  the  volume  of  the  lungs  allowed  free 
play?  the  heart  permitted,  without  manacles,  to 
do  the  great  work  which  the  Creator  assigned  it? 
The  injuries  iftflicted  by  compression  of  the 
vital  parts,  are  too  numerous  to  be  here  recounted. 
Impaired  digestion,  obstructed  circulation,  pulmo- 
nary disease,  and  nervous  wretchedness,  are  in 


HEALTH.  81 

their  train.  A  physician,  distinguished  by  practi- 
cal knowledge  of  the  Protean  forms  of  insanity, 
asserted,  that  he  gained  many  patients  from  that 
cause.  Another  medical  gentleman  of  eminence, 
led  by  philanthropy,  to  investigate  the  subject  of 
tight  lacing,  has  assured  the  public  that  multitudes 
annually  die  by  the  severe  discipline  of  busk  and 
corset.  His  theory  is  sustained  by  collateral  proof, 
and  illustrated  by  dissections. 

It  is  not  sufficient,  that  we  mothers  protect  our 
younger  daughters  while  more  immediately  under 
our  authority,  from  such  hurtful  practices.  We 
should  follow  them,  until  a  principle  is  formed 
by  which  they  can  protect  themselves  against  the 
tyranny  of  fashion.  It  is  true,  that  no  young  lady 
acknowledges  herself  to  be  laced  too  tight.  Habits 
that  shun  the  light,  and  shelter  themselves  in  sub- 
terfuge, are  ever  the  most  difficult  to  eradicate. 
A  part  of  the  energy  which  is  essential  to  their 
reformation,  must  be  expended  in  hunting  them 
from  their  hiding-places.  Though  the  sufferer 
from  tight  lacing  will  not  own  herself  to  be  uncom- 
fortable, the  laborious  respiration,  the  suffused 
countenance,  the  constrained  movement,  perhaps 
the  curved  spine,  bear  different  testimony. 

But  in  these  days  of  diffused  knowledge,  of 
heightened  education,  is  it  possible  that  any  female 
can  put  in  jeopardy  the  enjoyment  of  health,  even 
the  duration  of  existence,  for  a  circumstance  of 


82  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

dress  1  Will  she  throw  an  illusion  over  those  who 
strive  to  save  her,  and  like  the  Spartan  culprit, 
conceal  the  destroyer  that  feeds  upon  her  vitals? 
We  know  that  it  is  so.  Who  that  has  tested  the 
omnipotence  of  fashion  will  doubt  it  ?  This  is,  by 
no  means,  the  only  sacrifice  of  health  that  she 
imposes.  But  it  is  a  prominent  one.  Let  us,  who 
are  mothers,  look  to  it.  Let  us  be  fully  aware  of 
the  dangers  of  stricture  on  the  lungs  and  heart, 
during  their  season  of  developement. 

Why  should  we  not  bring  up  our  daughters, 
without  any  article  of  dress  which  could  disorder 
the  seat  of  vitality.  Our  sons  hold  themselves 
erect,  without  busk  or  corset,  or  frame-work  of 
whalebone.  Why  should  not  our  daughters  also? 
Did  not  God  make  them  equally  upright?  Yes. 
But  they  have  "  sought  out  many  inventions." 

Let  us  educate  a  race  who  shall  have  room  to 
breathe.  Let  us  promise,  even  in  their  cradle, 
that  their  hearts  shall  not  be  pinioned  as  in  a  vice, 
nor  their  spines  bent  like  a  bow,  nor  their  ribs 
forced  into  the  liver.  Doubtless,  the  husbands 
and  fathers  of  the  next  generation  will  give  us 
thanks. 

Yet,  if  we  would  engage  in  so  formidable  a 
work,  we  must  not  wait  until  morbid  habits  have 
gathered  strength.  Our  labour  must  be  among 
the  elements  of  character.  We  must  teach  in  the 
nursery,  that  "  the  body  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy 


HEALTH.  83 

Ghost."  We  must  leave  no  place  in  the  minds 
of  our  little  ones,  for  the  lunatic  sentiment,  that 
the  mind's  healthful  action,  and  the  integrity  of 
the  organs  on  which  it  operates,  are  secondary  to 
the  vanities  of  external  decoration.  If  they  have 
received  from  their  Creator,  a  sound  mind,  and 
a  sound  body,  convince  them  that  they  are  account- 
able for  both.  If  they  deliberately  permit  injury 
to  either,  how  shall  they  answer  for  it  before  their 
Judge  ? 

And  how  shall  the  mother  answer  it,  in  whose 
hand  the  soul  of  her  child  was  laid,  as  a  waxen 
tablet,  if  she  suffer  Fashion  to  cover  it  with  fan- 
tastic images,  and  Folly  to  puff  out  her  feverish 
breath,  melting  the  lines  that  Wisdom  pencilled 
there,  till  what  Heaven  would  fain  have  polished 
for  itself,  loses  the  fair  impression,  and  becomes 
like  common  earth. 


84  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 


LETTER   VIII. 

ECONOMY. 

I  HAVE  a  few  words  to  say  to  mothers  on  a 
point  of  domestick  economy.  In  a  country  like 
ours,  where  there  are  few  large  estates,  and  where 
almost  every  father  of  a  family  is  subjected  to  some 
kind  of  labour,  either  for  the  maintenance  of  those 
who  are  dear,  or  the  preservation  of  possessions  on 
which  they  are  to  depend  when  he  shall  be  taken 
from  them,  the  duty  of  the  "  help-meet,"  to  lighten 
as  far  as  possible  these  burdens,  by  a  consistent 
economy,  is  too  obvious  to  need  illustration.  To 
adapt  whatever  may  be  entrusted  to  her  care,  to 
the  best  ends,  and  to  make  it  subservient  to  the 
greatest  amount  of  good,  should  be  her  daily  study. 
There  is,  perhaps,  no  community  of  women,  who 
more  faithfully,  or  dexterously,  than  the  wives  and 
mothers  of  New  England,  carry  this  wisdom  and 
forethought  into  all  the  details  of  that  science  by 
which  the  table  is  spread,  and  the  apparel  adapted, 
to  the  ever-changing  seasons.  The  same  judgment 
which  so  admirably  regulates  food  and  clothing,  it 
would  be  desirable  to  apply  to  another  and  a  higher 


ECONOMY.  85 

department.  It  is  to  mothers,  with  the  care  of 
young  children,  that  these  remarks  on  economy 
are  peculiarly  addressed.  They  have  the  charge 
of  immortal  beings,  whose  physical,  mental  and 
moral  temperament,  are  for  a  long  period,  exclu- 
sively in  their  hands.  Nothing  save  the  finger  of 
God  has  written  on  the  tablet,  when  it  is  commit- 
ted to  them.  It  is  important  that  they  secure  time 
to  form  deep  and  lasting  impressions. 

Let  them,  therefore,  devote  their  first  strength, 
and  their  utmost  effort,  to  the  highest  duties.  The 
heart  soon  developes  itself,  and  asks  culture. 
Through  the  feelings  and  affections  it  bursts  forth, 
even  while  the  infant  is  considered  not  to  have 
advanced  beyond  animal  nature.  The  preferences, 
the  passions,  reveal  themselves,  like  the  young 
tendrils  of  the  vine,  reaching  out  feebly  and 
blindly.  The  mother  must  be  assiduous,  in  teach- 
ing them  where  to  twine.  While  the  character 
of  the  babe  is  forming,  let  every  action  and  indi- 
cation of  motive  be  a  subject  of  observation.  But 
how  can  she  be  adequate  to  this,  if  the  whole  atten- 
tion to  the  personal  comfort  of  several  young  chil- 
dren devolves  upon  herself?  If  she  is  to  make 
and  mend  their  articles  of  dress,  bear  them  in  her 
arms  during  their  period  of  helplessness,  and  exhaust 
herself  by  toils  throughout  the  day,  and  watchings 
by  night,  how  can  she  have  leisure  to  study  their 
varying  shades  of  disposition,  and  adapt  to  each 
8 


86  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

the  fitting  mode  of  discipline,  as  the  skilful  gardener 
suits  the  plant  to  the  soil  ?  Will  she  not  be  some- 
times moved  to  apostrophize  them,  like  the  leader 
of  the  wandering,  repining  Israelites,  "how  can 
I  alone  bear  your  cumbrance,  and  your  burden, 
and  your  strife?" 

The  remedy  is,  for  the  mother  to  provide  her- 
self with  competent  assistance,  in  the  sphere  of 
manual  labour,  that  she  may  be  enabled  to  become 
the  constant  directress  of  her  children,  and  have 
leisure  to  be  happy  in  their  companionship.  This 
would  seem  to  be  a  rational  economy.  The  thrifty 
village-matron,  when  she  returns  from  church, 
takes  off  her  Sunday  dress,  and  deposites  it  in  its 
accustomed  place,  substituting  one  better  fitted  to 
her  household  duties.  She  is  not  blamed  for  pre- 
serving her  most  valuable  garment  for  its  appro- 
priate uses.  Let  every  mother  pay  herself  the 
same  respect,  which  the  good  farmer's  lady  pays 
her  "  bettermost  gown :"  not  the  homage  of  a 
miserly  parsimony,  but  a  just  protection  in  fresh- 
ness and  order,  for  fitting  and  dignified  offices, 

"  My  husband  cannot  afford  to  hire  a  nurse  for 
the  little  ones,"  said  a  young  friend.  "We  have 
so  many,  that  we  must  economize." 

Her  mother  suggested  that  the  expenditure 
should  be  saved  in  some  other  department  of 
housekeeping,  in  the  toilette,  or  in  luxurious  en- 
tertainment. But  the  counsel  was  not  accepted 


ECONOMY.  87 

by  the  daughter,  who,  in  her  zeal  for  economy, 
failed  to  comprehend  its  elementary  principles. 

She  commenced  her  task  with  vigour,  and  con- 
fidence in  the  correctness  of  her  own  decision. 
Sickness  in  the  various  forms  that  mark  the  pro- 
gress of  dentition,  and  neglect  of  slight  diseases 
in  their  first  symptoms,  came  upon  her  young 
family.  Uninstructed  by  experience,  she  gave 
powerful  medicines  for  trifling  maladies,  or  sum- 
moned and  teazed  physicians,  when  Nature  was 
simply  perfecting  her  own  operations.  The  chil- 
dren who  had  emerged  from  infancy,  were  in- 
dulging bad  dispositions,  and  acquiring  improper 
habits.  She  knew  it.  But  what  could  she  do? 
She  was  depressed  by  fatigue.  The  wardrobe  of 
her  numerous  little  ones  continually  required  her 
attention.  It  would  not  do  for  them  to  be  un- 
fashionably  clad,  or  appear  worse  than  their  neigh- 
bours. So,  the  soul  being  most  out  of  sight,  must 
suffer  most.  Blindness  to  evil,  or  hasty  punish- 
ment, rendering  it  still  more  inveterate,  were  the 
only  resources  of  her  hurried  and  hurrying  mode 
of  existence.  For  her,  there  seemed  no  rest.  If 
health  returned  to  her  young  family,  mental  dis- 
eases were  disclosed.  She  became  spiritless,  ner- 
vous and  discouraged.  She  was  harrassed  by  the 
application  of  force  among  the  inferior  machinery. 
When  it  was  necessary  that  power  should  be 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  minds  committed  to 


88  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

her  care,  she  was  painfully  conscious  that  her 
energies  had  spent  themselves  in  other  channels. 
Running  up  the  shrouds  like  a  ship-boy,  the  helm, 
where  she  should  stand,  was  left  unguided.  The 
pilot,  steering  among  rocks,  does  not  weary  him- 
self with  the  ropes  and  rigging,  which  a  common 
sailor  as  well  manages,  and  better  understands. 

The  temper  and  constitution  of  the  young 
mother  became  equally  impaired.  Her  .husband 
complained  of  the  bad  conduct  and  rude  manners 
of  the  children.  "  What  could  she  do  ?  She  was 
sure  there  was  nothing  but  toil  and  trouble,  by 
night,  and  by  day."  This  was  true.  There  was 
an  error  in  economy.  The  means  were  not  adapt- 
ed to  their  highest  ends.  She  was  an  educated 
woman,  and  a  Christian.  Her  children  should 
have  reaped  the  advantage  of  her  internal  wealth, 
as  soon  as  their  unfolding  minds  cast  forth  the 
first  beam  of  intelligence.  But  she  led  the  life 
of  a  galley-slave,  and  their  heritage  was  in  pro- 
portion. 

Is  this  an  uncommon  example  1  Have  we  not 
often  witnessed  it?  Have  we  not  ourselves  ex- 
hibited some  of  its  lineaments  ? 

The  proposed  remedy,  is  to  employ  an  efficient 
person  in  the  nurse's  department.  I  say  efficient, 
for  the  young  girls,  to  whom  this  responsibility  is 
sometimes  entrusted,  are  themselves  an  additional 
care.  « I  am  not  willing,"  said  a  judicious  father, 


ECONOMY. 


"to  place  my  infant  in  the  arms  of  one,  with 
whom  I  would  not  trust  an  expensive  glass  dish." 
Half-grown  girls  are  not  the  proper  assistants  to  a 
young  mother.  They  themselves  need  her  super- 
intendence, and  create  new  demands  on  time 
already  too  much  absorbed. 

"I  know  she  is  small,"  says  the  mistaken  pa- 
rent, "but  she  will  do  to  hold  a  baby" 

Holding  a  baby,  is  not  so  slight  a  vocation 
as  many  suppose.  Physicians  assert  that  defor- 
mity is  often  produced,  by  keeping  an  infant  in 
those  uneasy  positions  to  which  a  feeble  arm  re- 
sorts ;  and  health  and  life  have  been  sacrificed 
to  accidents  and  falls,  through  the  carelessness, 
or  impatience,  of  an  over-wearied  girl.  The  ar- 
gument for  the  substitution  of  an  immature  nurse, 
drawn  from  the  circumstance  of  the  saving  of 
expense,  is  doubtless  futile ;  for  the  apparel  and 
means  of  education,  which  a  conscientious  per- 
son feels  bound  to  provide  for  a  young  girl, 
will  equal  the  wages  of  a  woman.  In  many 
departments  of  domestic  labour,  the  help  of  mi- 
nors is  both  pleasant  and  profitable ;  and  the  lady 
who  brings  them  up  properly,  confers  a  benefit 
on  the  community,  and  may  secure  to  herselfj 
lasting  gratitude  and  attachment. 

But  the  physical  welfare  of  infancy  is  of  such 
immense  importance,  that  it  seems  desirable  that 
those  whom  the  mother  associates  with  herself 
8* 


90  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

in  this  department,  should  have  attained  full 
strength,  both  of  mind  and  body.  Moral  integ- 
rity, patient  and  kind  dispositions,  industrious 
habits,  and  religious  principles,  are  essential  to  the 
faithful  discharge  of  these  deputed  duties,  and 
to  render  that  influence  safe,  which  they  will  ne- 
cessarily acquire  over  the  little  being  whose  com- 
fort they  promote.  Such  qualities  are  deserving 
of  respect,  in  whatever  station  they  may  be 
found ;  and  I  would  suggest,  both  as  a  point  of 
policy  and  justice,  the  attaching  higher  consider- 
ation to  the  office  of  a  nurse,  when  her  charac- 
ter comprises  them.  If  the  nurture  of  an  immor- 
tal being  for  immortality  is  an  honourable  work, 
and  if  its  earliest  impressions  are  allowed  to  be 
most  indelible,  those  who  minister  to  its  humblest 
wants,  partake  in  some  measure  of  its  elevated 
destiny;  as  the  porters  and  Levites  derived  dig- 
nity from  the  temple-service,  though  they  might 
not  wear  the  Urim  and  Thummim  of  the  High- 
Priest,  or  direct  the  solemn  sacrifices,  when  the 
flame  of  Heaven  descended  upon  the  altar. 

To  the  inquiry,  why  this  kind  of  assistance  is 
more  needed  by  the  mother  in  our  own  days, 
than  by  her  of  the  "olden  time,"  by  whom  the 
care  of  children,  the  operations  of  the  needle,  the 
mysteries  of  culinary  science,  and  all  the  com- 
plicated duties  of  housekeeping,  were  simultane- 
ously performed,  without  failure  or  chasm,  the 


ECONOMY.  91 

natural  reply  is,  that  the  structure  of  society  is 
different,  and  from  an  educated  parent,  the  mod- 
ern system  of  division  of  labour  asks  new  and 
extended  effort.  She  requires  aid,  not  that  she  \ 
may  indulge  in  indolence,  but  that  she  may  de- 
vote the  instruments  entrusted  to  her  to  their 
legitimate  uses.  There  is,  perhaps,  no  sphere  of 
action,  where  indolence  is  both  so  fatal  and  so 
sinful,  as  in  that  of  a  mother  of  young  children. 
She  is  a  sentinel  who  should  never  sleep  at  her 
post.  She  cannot  be  long  relieved  without  hazard, 
or  exchanged  without  loss.  She  should  therefore 
be  careful  of  her  strength,  her  health,  and  her 
life,  for  her  children^  sake.  If  she  employ  a 
subaltern,  it  is  that  she  may  give  herself  more 
exclusively  to  their  highest  and  best  interests. 

Let  her  be  persuaded,  whatever  may  be  the  de- 
mands upon  her  time,  or  then:  advantages  for 
gaining  knowledge  from  other  sources,  to  spend 
systematically  a  portion  of  time  in  their  daily 
instruction.  Let  her  also  be  with  them,  when 
they  retire  at  night,  to  review  the  day's  little 
gatherings  and  doings,  and  to  point  the  tender 
spirit  to  the  Giver  of  all  its  gifts.  Let  the  period 
devoted  to  them,  be  as  far  as  possible  uninterrupt- 
ed by  the  presence  of  others,  and  chosen,  in  the 
morning,  before  care  has  seized  the  teacher's  mind, 
or  temptation  saddened  the  beloved  pupil.  Let 
the  time  be  spent  in  reading  some  book  adapted 


92  LETTERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

to  their  comprehension,  which  conveys  useful 
knowledge  or  moral  and  religious  instruction, 
questioning  them  respecting  its  contents,  and  add- 
ing such  illustrations,  as  the  subject,  or  their  pe- 
culiar state  of  intellect  and  feeling,  may  render 
appropriate ;  having  it  always  understood,  that  at 
night,  some  recapitulation  will  be  expected  of  the 
lessons  of  the  day. 

The  mother  who  regularly  does  this,  will  find 
herself  in  the  practice  of  a  true  and  palpable 
economy.  She  will  be  induced  to  furnish  herself 
with  new  knowledge,  and  to  simplify  it,  for  those 
whom  she  seeks  to  train  up  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  She  will  not  strive  to  combine  fashion- 
able amusement,  or  dissipation  of  thought,  with 
her  solemn  and  delightful  obligations.  She  will 
labour  as  "ever  in  her  Great  Task-Master's  Eye," 
to  do  for  the  minds  and  souls  of  her  children, 
that  which  none  can  perform  as  well  as  herself, 
which,  if  she  neglects,  may  not  be  done  at  all, 
and  which,  if  left  undone,  will  be  a  loss,  for 
which  Eternity  must  pay. 


EARLY  CULTURE. 


LETTER    IX. 

EARLY     CULTURE. 

WHO  can  compute  the  value  of  the  first  seven 
years  of  life?  Who  can  tell  the  strength  of  im- 
pressions, made  ere  the  mind  is  pre-occupied,  pre- 
\  judiced,  or  perverted  ?  Especially,  if  in  its  wax- 
/en  state,  it  is  softened  by  the  breath  of  a  mother, 
will  not  the  seal  which  she  stamps  there,  resist 
the  mutations  of  time,  and  be  read  before  the 
Throne  of  the  Judge,  when  the  light  of  this  sun 
and  moon  are  quenched  and  extinct? 

We  are  counselled  on  this  point  by  the  hum- 
blest analogies.  Does  not  he  who  would  train  a 
dog,  or  tame  a  tiger,  or  exhibit  an  elephant  for 
gain,  begin  his  system  early,  before  time  has  ren- 
dered the  muscles  rigid,  or  rooted  ferocity  in 
habit,  or  set  bounds  to  sagacity  by  impairing  the 
docile  spirit?  And  is  animal  nature  worthy  of 
more  earnest  effort  than  intellectual?  or  can  mo- 
tives of  gain,  be  compared  with  the  hallowed  im- 
pulses that  move  parents  to  seek  the  good  of 
their  offspring? 

The    husbandman    wakes    early,    though    the 


94  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

mother  sleeps.  He  scarcely  waits  for  the  breath 
of  spring  to  unbind  the  soil,  ere  he  marks  out  his 
furrow.  If  he  neglected  to  prepare  the  ground, 
he  might  as  well  sow  his  seed  by  the  -way-side, 
or  upon  the  rock.  If  he  deferred  the  vernal  toil, 
till  the  suns  of  summer  were  high,  what  right 
would  he  have  to  expect  the  autumn-harvest,  or 
the  winter-store?  The  florist  mingles  his  com- 
post, he  proportions  warmth  and  moisture,  he  is 
patient  and  watchful,  observant  of  the  atmosphere 
and  of  the  seasons,  else  he  knows  that  his  richest 
bulbs  would  be  cast  away.  Should  the  teacher 
of  the  infant  heart  be  less  diligent  than  the  corn- 
planter,  or  the  culturer  of  a  tulip? 

The  industry  displayed  in  the  various  trades 
and  occupations,  should  be  a  stimulant  to  the 
mother,  who  modifies  a  material  more  costly 
than  all  others,  more  liable  to  destruction  by 
brief  neglect.  The  hammer  of  the  early  work- 
man admonishes  her  not  to  wait  till  the  "burden 
and  heat  of  the  day."  Is  the  manufacturer  of 
delicate  fabricks  inattentive  to  the  nature  of  the 
fleece  which  he  purchases,  or  to  the  lineage  of 
the  flock  that  produced  it?  Are  not  the  most 
refined  processes  of  the  loom  affected  by  the 
character  of  the  leaf  on  wliich  the  silk-worm  fed, 
or  the  fibre  of  the  flax  that  is  broken  like  a 
malefactor  upon  the  wheel?  The  artizan  who 
is  ambitious  to  spread  the  most  snowy  and  per- 


EARLY    CULTURE.  95 

feet  sheet  for  the  writer's  pen,  is  he  indifferent 
whether  the  pulp  be  pure?  if  he  would  tinge  it 
with  the  cerulean  or  the  rose-tint,  does  he  ne- 
glect to  infuse  the  colouring  matter  with  the  ele- 
mental mass  ?  Is  the  builder  of  a  lofty  and  mag- 
nificent edifice  careless  of  its  foundations,  and 
whether  its  columns  are  to  rest  upon  a  quick- 
sand, or  a  quagmire?  And  should  the  maternal 
guardian  of  an  immortal  being,  be  less  anxious, 
less  skilful,  less  scrupulous,  than  the  worker  in 
wool  and  silk,  in  linen  and  paper,  or  than  the 
artificer  in  brick  and  stone?  Shall  the  imperish- 
able gem  of  the  soul,  be  less  regarded  than  the 
"wood,  hay,  and  stubble,"  that  moulder  or  con- 
sume around  it? 

Mothers,  take  into  your  own  hands  the  early 
instruction  of  your  children.  Commence  with 
simple  stories,  from  the  Scriptures,  from  the  va- 
ried annal  of  history,  from  your  own  observa- 
tion of  mankind.  Let  each  illustrate  some  moral 
or  religious  truth,  adapted  to  convey  instruction, 
reproof,  or  encouragement,  according  to  your  know- 
ledge of  the  character  and  disposition  of  your  be- 
loved students.  Care  and  study  may  be  requi- 
site to  select,  adapt,  and  simplify.  But  can  any 
do  this  so  patiently  as  a  mother,  who  feels  that 
her  listening  pupil  is  a  part  of  herself? 

Cultivate  in  your  children,  tenderness  of  con- 
science, a  deep  sense  of  accountability  to  God,  a 


96  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

conviction  that  their  conduct  must  be  regulated 
by  duty,  and  not  by  impulse.  Read  to  them 
books  of  instruction,  selected  with  discrimination, 
or  make  use  of  them  as  texts  for  your  ewn  com- 
mentary. In  your  teachings  of  religion,  avoid 
all  points  of  sectarian  difference,  and  found  the 
morality  which  you  inculcate,  on  the  Scriptures 
of  truth.  Give  one  hour  every  morning  to  the 
instruction  of  your  children,  one  undivided  hour 
to  them  alone.  Ere  they  retire,  secure,  if  possi- 
ble, another  portion  of  equal  length.  Review 
what  has  been  learned  throughout  the  day,  recall 
its  deeds,  its  faults,  its  sorrows,  its  blessings,  to 
deepen  the  great  lessons  of  God's  goodness  and 
forbearance,  or  to  sooth  the  little  heart  into  sweet 
peace  with  Him,  and  all  the  world,  ere  the  eyes 
close  in  slumber.  Let  the  simple  music  of  some 
evening  hymn,  and  their  tender  prayer  of  contri- 
tion and  gratitude,  close  the  daily  intercourse  with 
your  endeared  pupils,  and  see  if  this  system  does 
not  render  them  doubly  dear. 

Do  not  deprive  them  of  these  stated  seasons  of 
instruction,  without  the  most  imperative  necessity. 
Let  your  youngest  share  in  them  as  soon  as  it 
opens  its  bright  eyes  wider  at  the  words,  "shall 
mother  tell  a  story?"  Then  the  little  flower  of 
mind  is  ready  for  a  dew-drop.  Let  it  be  small, 
and  so  fragrant,  that  another  will  be  desired  at 
the  morrow's  dawn.  Speak  of  the  dove  that 


EARLY   CULTURE.  97 

winged  its  way  back  to  the  ark,  and  of  the  good 
man  who  put  forth  his  hand  and  drew  her  in 
through  the  window,  to  gladden  her  sorrowing 
mate.  Tell  how  the  wide,  wasting  waters  swept 
over  a  disobedient  world.  Describe  the  lonely 
ark  upon  the  mighty  deep,  bearing  in  safety  the 
righteous  family,  while  all  the  ungodly  of  the 
earth  were  drowned.  Speak  of  the  brow  of  Ara- 
rat rising  above  the  dark  main,  of  the  exultation 
of  the  rescued  animals,  the  warbling  song  of  the 
birds  let  loose  from  their  prison,  and  the  higher 
joy  of  Noah,  and  his  beloved  ones,  who  knew 
how  to  pray  and  praise  their  Almighty  Deliverer. 
One  sacred  story,  thus  broken  into  parts,  is  suf- 
ficient for  many  feedings  of  the  infant  mind.  Be 
careful  not  to  surfeit  it,  nor  yet  too  much  to 
indulge  the  curiosity  of  the  ear  to  hear,  without 
awakening  the  understanding  to  extract  some  use- 
ful aliment.  In  the  broad  range  of  sacred  story, 
give  a  prominent  place  to  the  life  and  teachings 
of  our  Saviour,  to  the  many  forms  in  which  his 
compassions  wrought  among  the  sick,  the  hun- 
gering, and  the  blind,  the  tempest-tost,  the  dying, 
and  the  dead,  how  he  loved  little  children,  and 
drew  them  to  his  bosom,  and  blessed  them,  when 
sterner  souls  forbade  their  approach. 

Not  only  by  the  volume  of  Inspiration,  but  by 
their  daily  intercourse  with  the  animal  creation, 
and  from  the  ever  open  page  of  Nature,  guide 
9 


98  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

them  to  duty  and  to  God.  Take  in  your  arms 
their  favourite  kitten,  and  pointing  out  its  grace- 
ful proportions,  teach  a  lesson  of  kindness.  While 
the  dog  sleeps  at  the  feet  of  his  master,  tell  of 
the  virtues  of  his  race,  of  their  fidelity  and  en- 
during gratitude,  and  bespeak  respect  for  the 
good  qualities  of  the  inferior  creation.  Teach 
their  little  feet  to  turn  aside  from  the  worm,  and 
spare  to  trample  the  nest  of  the  toiling  ant.  Point 
out  the  bird,  "  laying  the  beams  of  its  chambers " 
among  the  green  leaves,  or  the  thick  grass,  and 
make  them  shudder  at  the  cruelty  which  could 
rifle  its  treasures.  Inspire  them  with  love  for 
all  innocent  creatures,  with  admiration  for  every 
beautiful  thing  ;  for  it  is  sweet  to  see  the  principles 
of  love  and  beauty,  leading  the  new-born  soul  to 
its  Maker. 

As  you  explain  to  the  young  child,  the  proper- 
ties of  the  flower  that  he  holds  in  his  hand,  speak 
with  a  smile  of  Him,  whose  "touch  perfumes  it, 
and  whose  pencil  paints."  Make  the  voice  of 
the  first  brook  as  it  murmurs  beneath  the  snow, 
and  the  gesture  of  the  waving  com,  and  the  icicle 
with  its  pen  sharpened  by  frost,  and  the  sleeted 
pane  with  its  fantastic  tracery,  and  the  nod  of 
the  awful  forest,  and  the  fixed  star  on  its  burning 
throne,  adjuncts  in  teaching  your  child  the  won- 
derful works  of  the  Almighty. 

The  mother  who  is  thus  assiduous  in  the  work 


EARLY   CULTURE.  99 

of  early  education,  will  find  in  poetry  an  assist- 
ant not  to  be  despised.  Its  melody  is  like  a  harp 
to  the  infant  ear,  like  a  trumpet  stirring  up  the 
new-born  intellect.  It  breaks  the  dream  'with 
which  existence  began,  as  the  clear  chirping  of 
the  bird  wakes  the  morning  sleeper.  It  seems  to 
be  the  natural  dialect  of  those  powers  which  are 
earliest  developed.  Feeling  and  Fancy  put  forth 
their  young  shoots  ere  they  are  expected,  and 
Poetry  bends  a  spray  for  their  feeblest  tendrils,  or 
rears  a  prop  for  their  boldest  aspirings. 

Even  its  first  intercourse  with  the  young  mind, 
may  be  for  a  higher  purpose  than  amusement. 
Entering  the  nursery,  hand  in  hand  with  song,  it 
need  not  confine  itself  to  unmeaning  carols,  or  to 
useless  echoes.  It  may  be  as  the  sun-beam  to 
the  broken  soil.  Quickening  perception,  and  giv- 
ing pleasant  food  to  memory,  it  leads  to  that  in- 
quisitive research,  which,  next  to  application,  en- 
sures proficiency  in  the  more  severe  sciences,  and 
higher  departments  of  knowledge. 

Still,  its  principal  and  best  affinity  is  with  the 
heart.  Its  power  of  creating  tender  and  indeli- 
ble impressions,  has  not  always  been  fully  appre- 
ciated. This  stamps  it  as  an  efficient  co-adjutor 
in  moral  and  religious  instruction.  It  comes 
forth  as  the  usher,  and  ally  of  the  mother.  It 
goes  with  her  into  the  mental  field,  in  the  fresh- 
ness of  the  grey  dawn,  ere  tares  have  sprung  up 


100  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

to  trouble  the  good  seed.  It  nurtures  the  listen- 
ing babe,  with  the  "sweet  words  of  sweetly 
uttered  knowledge."  "  It  holdeth,"  said  Sir  Philip 
Sydney,  "little  children  from  their  play,  and  old 
men  from  the  chimney  corner."  Especially  does 
it  prompt  the  cradle-sleeper  to  love  the  God  and 
Father  of  us  all,  and  as  he  advances  in  stature, 
walks  with  him  amid  the  charms  and  harmonies 
of  Nature,  speaking  the  language  of  a  clime 
where  beauty  never  fades,  and  where  melody  is 
immortal. 

Simple,  vocal  musick,  the  mother  will  be 
desirous  to  introduce  into  her  system  of  early 
education.  Its  softening,  soothing,  cheering  in- 
fluences, have  been  too  often  tested  to  need  addi- 
tional evidence  ;  and  its  affinity  with  devotion  has 
been  felt  by  every  one  who  has  heard  a  little 
group  singing  their  sacred  song,  ere  they  retired 
to  rest,  while  even  the  infant  on  its  mother's  knee, 
imitated  her  tones,  its  heart  swelling  with  the 
spirit  of  praise,  ere  the  understanding  was  able 
to  comprehend  its  dialect. 

Yet  it  was  not  my  intention  in  this  letter,  to 
have  defined  the  department  of  early  education, 
but  simply  to  urge  mothers  to  consider  it  then* 
province.  I  feel  persuaded,  that  after  they  have 
for  a  few  years,  superintended  daily  and  system- 
atically the  culture  of  the  beings  entrusted  to 
them,  they  would  not  be  willing  to  exchange  it 


EARLY   CULTURE.  101 

for  the  place,  or  the  power,  or  the  fame  of  any 
created  being.  Yet  amid  this  happiness,  who 
can  refrain  from  trembling  at  the  thought,  that 
every  action,  every  word,  even  every  modifica- 
tion of  voice  or  feature,  may  impress  on  the 
mental  tablet  of  the  pupil,  traces  that  shall  exist 
forever. 

Other  teachers  may  toil,  perhaps  in  vain,  to 
purify  the  streams  that  have  grown  turbid,  or  to 
turn  them  back  from  perverted  channels.  The 
dominion  of  the  mother  is  over  the  fountain,  ere 
it  has  contracted  a  stain.  Let  her  not  believe 
that  the  impressions  which  she  may  make  in 
the  first  years  of  life,  need  be  slight,  or  readily 
effaced  by  the  current  of  opposing  events.  The 
mother  of  the  Rev.  John  Newton,  was  assiduous 
in  her  instructions  at  that  early  period.  It  was 
the  only  season  allotted  her  for  intercourse  with 
him.  When  he  was  seven  years  old,  death  sum- 
moned her  from  his  side.  Faithfully  had  she 
laboured  to  implant  principles  of  piety.  After  he 
was  withdrawn  from  her  guidance,  strong  temp- 
tation beset  him.  He  yielded,  until  he  became 
exceedingly  degraded.  Many  sorrows  were  his 
portion  ere  his  restitution  to  virtue.  When  at 
length,  he  became  a  faithful  and  laborious  divine, 
he  bore  witness  that  the  early  precepts  of  his 
mother  had  interposed  between  him  and  destruc- 
tion. "  To  the  care  of  my  mother,"  he  says,  « I 
9* 


102  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

owe  that  bias  towards  religion,  which,  with  the  co- 
operating grace  of  God,  at  length  reclaimed,  and 
brought  me  back  to  the  paths  of  peace.  A  pru- 
dent and  pious  woman,  in  the  capacity  of  wife 
and  mother,  is  a  greater  character  than  any  hero 
or  philosopher,  of  either  ancient  or  modern  times. 
The  first  impressions  which  children  receive  in 
the  nursery,  under  the  mother's  immediate  care, 
are  seldom  obliterated.  Sooner  or  later,  their  in- 
fluence conduces  to  form  the  future  life.  Though 
the  child  trained  up  in  the  way  he  should  go, 
may  for  a  season  depart  from  it,  there  is  always 
reason  to  hope  that  he  will  be  found  in  it,  when 
he  is  old.  The  principles  instilled  into  the  mind 
in  infancy,  may  seem  dormant  for  a  while,  but  the 
prayers  with  which  the  mother  watered  what 
she  planted  there,  are,  as  some  old  writers  say, 
"upon  the  Lord's  file."  Times  of  trouble  recall 
these  principles  to  the  mind,  and  the  child  thus 
instructed,  has  something  to  recur  to.  Thus  it 
was  with  me.  I  was  the  only  son  of  my  mother. 
She  taught  me.  She  prayed  for  me,  and  over  me. 
Had  she  lived  to  see  the  misery  and  wickedness 
into  which  I  afterwards  plunged,  I  think  it  would 
have  broken  her  heart.  But  in  the  Lord's  time, 
her  prayers  were  answered.  Distress  led  me  to 
recollect  her  early  care.  So  was  I  led  to  look 
the  right  way  for  help.  Happy  and  honoured  is 
the  woman,  who  is  thus  qualified  to  instruct  her 


EARLY  CULTURE.  103 

children,  and  does  it  heartily,  in  the  spirit  of  faith 
and  prayer." 

Friends !  mothers !  how  long  will  it  be,  ere 
we  shall  be  removed  from  our  stewardship?  ere 
a  stranger  may  be  seated  where  we  have  been 
wont  to  preside  at  the  table,  and  the  hearth- 
stone? How  brief  will  be  the  interval  ere  the 
infants  that  we  now  caress,  shall  be  rocking  the 
cradle  of  their  own  infants,  or  treading  like  us  the 
threshold  of  that  house  of  forgetfulness,  whence 
there  is  no  return?  Bound  on  this  ceaseless, 
unresting  march  in  the  footsteps  of  buried  gene- 
rations, enlisted  in  that  warfare  whence  there  is 
no  discharge,  let  us,  on  whom  such  pressing  re- 
sponsibilities devolve,  take  as  our  motto,  "what 
thou  doest,  do  quickly." 

The  dews  of  the  morning  are  scarcely  more 
fleeting  than  the  plastick  period  of  the  minds  on 
which  we  operate.  Every  day  removes  them 
further  from  our  jurisdiction.  The  companions 
with  whom  they  are  to  associate,  the  world  in 
which  they  are  to  act,  hasten  onward  with  oppo- 
sing influences,  and  an  indurating  power.  Now, 
while  the  garden  of  the  soul  is  ours,  let  us  give 
diligence  to  implant  the  germs  of  holy  principle, 
of  unswerving  goodness,  of  humble  piety,  of  the 
fear  of  sin,  of  faith  in  the  Redeemer.  "  Now,  while 
it  is  called  to-day" 

God,  in  bestowing  on  us  the  privilege  of  being 


104  LETTER^    TO   MOTHERS. 

Christian  mothers,  has  nothing  higher  in  reserve 
for  us,  till  we  take  the  nature  and  the  harp  of 
seraphs.  Then,  as  we  stand  adoring  near  the 
Throne,  may  the  chorus  of  our  joyful  song  be, 
"Lo,  here  are  the  children  whom  thou  hast  gra- 
ciously given  thy  servants.  Not  one  is  lost." 


DOMESTIC    EDUCATION.  105 


LETTER    X. 

DOMESTIC    EDUCATION. 

I  AM  not  without  hope  of  persuading  mothers 
to  take  charge  of  the  entire  education  of  their 
children,  during  the  earlier  years  of  life.  After 
devoting  daily  a  stated  period,  morning  and  eve- 
ning, to  their  moral  and  religious  training,  I  can- 
not but  trust  that  the  pleasure  of  the  communion 
will  lead  to  a  more  extended  system  of  domestic 
culture.  Indeed,  it  is  not  possible  to  convey  in- 
struction to  the  heart,  without  acting  as  a  pioneer 
for  the  intellect.  The  docility,  the  application, 
the  retentive  energy,  which  the  mother  awakens 
in  her  child,  while  she  teaches  it  the  principles  ' 
of  justice,  and  the  love  of  truth,  and  the  reve- 
rence of  the  Creator,  lead  her  continually,  though 
it  may  be  unconsciously,  into  the  province  of 
scholastic  education. 

"Whoever  educates  his  children  well,"  says 
Xenophon,  in  his  letter  to  Crito,  "  gives  *  them 
much,  even  though  he  should  leave  them  little." 
If  parents  felt  that  by  spending  three  hours  daily, 
they  might  secure  for  each  of  their  offspring  an 


106  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

ample  fortune,  not  to  be  alienated,  but  made  sure 
to  them  through  life,  would  they  grudge  the  sa- 
crifice? Let  the  mother  try,  if  by  an  equal  ex- 
penditure of  time,  she  may  not  purchase  for  them 
a  patrimony,  which  rust  cannot  corrode,  or  the 
robber  rifle,  or  the  elements  that  sweep  away 
perishable  wealth,  have  power  to  destroy.  If  she 
feels  it  impossible  to  dispense  with  their  attend- 
ing school,  let  her  at  least  teach  them  herself 
to  read,  ere  she  sends  them  there.  I  once  heard 
an  aged  and  intelligent  gentleman  speak  with  de- 
light of  the  circumstance,  that  he  learned  to  read 
from  maternal  instruction.  He  gave  it  as  one 
reason  why  knowledge  was  pleasant  to  his  soul, 
that  its  rudiments  entered  there  with  the  associa- 
tion of  gentle  tones,  patient  explanations,  and  ten- 
der caresses. 

The  correct  reading  of  our  copious  language 
is  not  a  branch  of  such  simplicity,  that  it  may 
be  well  taught  by  careless,  or  slightly  educated 
instructors.  The  perfect  enunciation  which  is  so 
important  to  publick  speakers,  is  best  acquired 
when  the  organs  of  articulation  are  most  flexible, 
and  ere  vicious  intonations  are  confirmed  by  habit. 
One  of  the  most  accomplished  orators  that  I  have 
ever  heard,  used  to  take  pleasure  in  referring  his 
style  of  elocution  to  his  mother,  who  taught  him 
early  to  read,  and  devoted  much  attention  to  his 
distinct  utterance,  and  right  understanding  of  the 


DOMESTIC    EDUCATION.  107 

subjects  that  he  rendered  vocal.  "A  principle  of 
equity,"  said  a  lady  to  her  child,  "should  lead 
you  to  a  clear  and  careful  articulation,  for  what 
right  have  you  to  rob  a  single  letter  of  its  sound  ? 
Still  less  right  have  you  to  cheat  those  friends  of 
their  time,  who  are  listening  to  you."  "Speaking 
so  as  not  to  be  understood,  and  writing  so  as  not 
to  be  read,  are  among  the  minor  immoralities," 
said  the  excellent  Mrs.  H.  More. 

A  mother,  who  succeeds  in  teaching  her  child 
to  read,  and  partakes  the  delight  of  perceiving 
new  ideas  enrich  and  expand  its  intellect,  will  be 
very  apt  to  wish  to  conduct  its  education  still 
further.  And  if  it  is  in  her  power  to  do  so,  why 
does  she  send  it  to  school  at  all,  during  its  most 
susceptible  years?  Who  can  be  so  deeply  inter- 
ested in  its  improvement  as  herself?  Why  then 
does*  she  entrust  it  to  the  management  of  stran- 
gers? Why  expose  it  to  the  influence  of  evil 
example,  ere  its  principles  are  sufficiently  strong 
to  withstand  temptation?  Why  yield  it  to  the 
excitement  of  promiscuous  association,  when  it 
has  a  parental  home,  where  its  innocence  may 
be  shielded,  and  its  intellect  aided  to  expand? 

"I  have  no  time,"  replies  the  mother.  How 
much  time  will  it  require?  Two  or  three  hours 
in  a  day,  is  a  greater  proportion  than  any  teacher 
of  a  school  would  devote  exclusively  to  them. 
Even  if  they  could  receive  such  an  amount  of 


108  LETTERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

instruction  in  school,  the  division  of  their  own 
attention  among  their  companions  would  diminish 
its  value  to  them. 

Let  their  lessons  be  short,  but  thoroughly  com- 
mitted. While  they  study,  it  ought  not  to  be 
necessary  for  you  to  watch  and  superintend  them. 
The  presence  of  a  judicious  nurse,  or  of  even 
the  oldest  child,  should  be  sufficient  to  preserve 
order,  while  you  reserve  your  more  precious  time 
for  recitation,  explanation,  and  illustration.  I  am 
bold  to  say,  if  three  hours  a  day  were  wisely  pro- 
portioned, and  systematically  set  apart  for  this 
purpose,  it  would  be  all  that  the  first  eight  or 
ten  years  of  life  would  need,  and  more  than  they 
usually  obtain.  The  intellect  of  quite  young  chil- 
dren should  be  sparingly  taxed.  Physical  dan- 
gers of  a  formidable  nature,  are  connected  with 
their  close  confinement,  or  long  enforced  appli- 
cation. If  you  have  a  rural  spot,  where  they  can 
have  pure  air  and  exercise,  consider  it  a  blessing ; 
and  let  the  play,  and  muscular  activity,  which 
nature  points  out,  be  a  part  of  your  daily  system 
of  education. 

I  imagine  another  mother  saying  in  the  depth 
of  her  humility,  "I  am  not  qualified."  Profound 
erudition  is  not  demanded.  Yet  if  it  were,  who 
ought  to  have  a  stronger  motive  to  attain  it,  than 
a  mother,  for  her  children's  sake?  Reading,  or- 
thography, and  the  definition  of  words,  penman- 


DOMESTIC    EDUCATION.  109 

ship,  arithmetic,  and  the  expression  of  thought  in 
the  simple  epistolary  or  descriptive  style,  she  is 
surely  capable  of  teaching.  Still,  these  can  scarce- 
ly be  too  thoroughly  learned,  since  they  are  the 
necessary  ground-work  of  a  complete  education. 
I  should  think  the  patience  and  affection  of  the 
mother,  would  render  her  an  excellent  instruc- 
tress in  those  branches  which  demand  continual 
repetition,  and  exercise.  Is  there  any  thing  so  in- 
explicable in  Geography,  and  the  elements  of  the 
Natural  Sciences,  that  she  need  shrink  back  from 
them,  aided  as  she  is  by  treatises  from  the  most 
gifted  minds? 

A  course  of  History  can  scarcely  be  grasped  by 
the  intellect  in  its  tutelage;  yet  biographical  se- 
lections may  be  made  from  it,  at  the  mother's 
pleasure,  in  her  own  words,  and  combined  with 
the  outlines  of  chronology.  For  instance,  when 
her  young  pupils  have  learned  the  geographical 
features  of  a  country,  and  demonstrated  its  rela- 
tive position  and  localities  on  their  atlas,  she 
may  reward  their  accuracy,  by  describing  one  of 
the  most  illustrious  characters  which  it  has  pro- 
duced, either  in  ancient  or  modem  times.  This 
little  fragment  of  history,  with  its  atom  of  chro- 
nology, will  act  as  a  grappling-iron  to  the  geo- 
graphy which  was  made  its  basis,  and  each  will 
give  to  the  other  a  firmer  hold  on  memory.  A 
number  of  such  facts,  presented  under  the  double 
10 


110  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

allurement  of  stories  and  of  rewards,  and  riveted 
by  the  mother's  care,  will  serve  as  stepping  stones, 
when  the  broad  stream  of  History,  flowing  from 
Eden  onward,  shall  be  forded  by  the  wonder- 
ing traveller. 

"I  have  too  much  to  do  in  my  family,"  says  a 
careful  matron,  "to  attend  to  the  instruction  of  my 
children."  Do  not  be  too  ambitious  a  house- 
keeper. Is  it  not  better  that  there  should  be  some 
deficiency  in  the  luxurious  variety,  or  elegant 
arrangement  of  a  table,  than  in  the  hearts  and 
minds  of  your  children  ?  But  why  need  there  be 
deficiency  any  where?  Energy,  and  adherence 
to  system,  will  accomplish  wonders. 

The  mistress  of  a  large  household,  in  New 
England,  was  exceedingly  attentive  to  all  the 
minutiae  of  housekeeping.  Her  brass  and  silver, 
and  mahogany,  bore  the  finest  polish.  She  ex- 
celled in  rich  culinary  compounds,  and  her  table 
had  in  the  neighbourhood  no  competitor.  She 
was  so  situated,  that  much  of  her  own  personal 
exertion  was  necessary  to  produce  these  results. 
Her  ambition  was  solaced  to  know  that  she 
maintained  among  nice  housekeepers,  the  highest 
place.  The  dresses  of  her  many  children  evinced 
care,  and  attention  to  the  reigning  modes.  But 
she  did  not  feel  that  she  had  any  time  to  bestow 
on  their  minds.  They  attended  school  when  it 
was  convenient,  but  their  progress  having  no 


DOMESTIC    EDUCATION.  Ill 

parental  supervision,  was  exceedingly  desultory. 
Their  moral  and  religious  culture  also  suffered, 
though  she  was  by  profession  and  in  reality  a 
Christian.  A  wasting  sickness,  impeding  all  ac- 
tivity, forced  her  into  habits  of  deeper  reflection, 
and  she  felt  that  in  her  scale  of  duty,  she  had 
permitted  the  least  important  to  usurp  the  high- 
est place.  With  affecting  regret  she  said,  as  death 
approached,  "I  have  led  a  laborious  life,  scarcely 
allowing  myself  time  for  thought.  It  seems  prin- 
cipally to  have  been  spent  in  preparing  food  and 
clothing  for  the  family.  I  can  recollect  but  little 
else.  And  now  I  feel  that  I  have  "spent  my 
money  for  that  which  is  not  bread,  and  my 
labour  for  that  which  satisfieth  not." 

"I  have  so  many  children,"  says  another,  "that 
I  cannot  think  of  doing  more  than  seeing  that 
they  are  sent  to  school."  How  many  had  Mrs. 
Ramsay,  of  South  Carolina,  when  she  took  charge 
of  their  whole  education,  and  prepared  her  sons 
for  college?  Does  not  her  biographer  mention 
that  she  was  the  mother  of  eleven  children, 
during  the  first  sixteen  years  after  her  marriage? 
Beside  the  charge  of  a  large  and  well-ordered 
household,  and  assisting  her  husband  in  the  lite- 
rary labours  which  he  combined  with  his  medical 
profession,  she  gave  the  most  indefatigable  atten- 
tion to  the  physical,  religious  and  intellectual  edu- 
cation of  her  children.  That  they  might  daily 


112  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

read  their  Bible  with  pleasure,  she  connected  with 
it  an  extensive  collection  of  prints,  for  the  younger ; 
and  for  the  more  advanced,  "  Watts'  View  of  Scrip- 
ture History,"  "Newton  on  the  Prophecies,"  and 
other  books  which  unite  the  Old  with  the  New 
Testament,  and  make  sacred  and  uninspired  His- 
tory, mutual  interpreters.  While  endeavouring  to 
store  their  minds  with  useful  knowledge,  she 
compiled  for  them  a  grammar  of  the  English 
language,  not  finding  the  treatises  of  Lowth  and 
Ash,  which  had  been  used  in  her  own  tutelage, 
easily  subject  to  the  comprehension  of  childhood. 
From  her  accurate  knowledge  of  French,  she  was 
able  early  to  impart  it  to  them;  and  for  their 
sakes,  studied  the  Greek  and  Latin  classicks,  until 
she  became  an  excellent  teacher  in  both  those 
languages.  With  the  same  motive,  she  prosecuted 
the  study  of  Botany,  to  considerable  extent,  re- 
freshed her  knowledge  of  Natural  and  Civil  His- 
tory, Biography,  Astronomy,  Chronology,  Phi- 
losophy, with  an  extensive  course  of  Voyages  and 
Travels.  She  continued  her  instructions  daily 
with  regularity,  and  conducted  her  daughters  at 
home,  through  the  studies  and  accomplishments 
taught  at  boarding  schools,  and  her  sons  through 
a  course  which  thoroughly  fitted  them  to  enter 
college. 

"I  do  not  feel  prepared,"  says  another  mother, 
"to  give  up  all  society,  and  turn  myself  into  a 


DOMESTIC    EDUCATION.  113 

care-worn  school-teacher."  This  would  indeed  be 
undesirable.  Whoever  forsakes  social  intercourse, 
deadens  the  impulse  to  generous  sympathy  and 
active  benevolence,  which,  like  the  nervous  energy 
in  the  physical  constitution,  quickens  the  remotest 
extremities  of  the  frame,  and  impels  to  harmo- 
nious and  efficient  exertion.  Mrs.  Ramsay,  the 
striking  example  which  we  have  just  quoted,  pre- 
served her  social  feelings  in  healthful  activity, 
though  she  seldom  visited  during  the  day.  Eve- 
nings, when  the  stated  instruction  of  her  beloved 
pupils  was  closed,  she  was  ready  and  cheerful, 
for  the  intercourse  of  friendship.  That  a  routine 
of  ceremonious  visiting,  involving  late  hours,  high 
dress,  luxurious  entertainment,  and  much  expense 
of  time  and  thought,  is  not  consistent  with  the 
faithful  instruction  of  children,  is  admitted.  Will 
any  Christian  mother  hesitate  which  she  ought  to 
renounce?  I  am  most  happy  to  have  a  case  in 
point.  A  young  lady,  whose  beauty,  wealth,  accom- 
plishments, and  European  travel,  rendered  her  an 
object  of  admiration  among  the  fashionable  circles 
of  our  most  fashionable  metropolis,  after  her  mar- 
riage, undertook  the  domestick  education  of  her 
three  little  ones,  and  writes,  "  I  find  more  heartfelt 
pleasure,  more  agreeable  retrospection,  in  one  hour 
spent  in  endeavouring  to  elicit  thought  and  feel- 
ing from  my  children,  than  in  any  other  pursuit, 
or  amusement."  A  precious  suffrage  from  one 
10* 


114  LETTER^    TO   MOTHERS. 

perfectly  qualified  to  judge,  and  an  encouragement 
to  such  mothers  as  shrink  at  the  threshold  of  their 
higher  duties 

Methinks,  I  hear  the  voice  of  some  fair  sceptic 
exclaiming,  "I  doubt  whether  it  would  be  as  well 
for  my  children  to  be  educated  at  home.  They 
require  the  stimulus  to  exertion,  which  is  found 
in  schools."  Are  you  quite  sure  of  it?  Is  not 
the  emulation  which  you  quote,  often  but  another 
name  for  "envying  and  strife?"  May  not  an 
ambitious  mind  b^e  so  incited  by  it,  as  to  make 
exertions  which  would  be  destructive  of  health? 
We  think  such  instances  are  not  uncommon. 

But  will  not  the  duty  of  obedience,  the  desire 
of  pleasing  you,  or  the  satisfaction  of  knowledge, 
impel  your  children  to  the  brief  lessons  which 
you  appoint?  Do  they  all  require  the  external 
prompting  to  which  you  allude  ?  Is  not  one  ca- 
pable of  higher  motives?  If  so,  select  that  one 
as  an  example,  and  let  your  approbation,  bearing 
decidedly  upon  that  one,  "provoke  the  others  to 
good  works."  If  all  are  equally  torpid,  there  are 
methods  by  which  all  may  be  aroused.  I  knew 
a  mother  who  kept  two  blank  books,  one  bound 
in  red,  the  other  in  black.  For  every  well-com- 
mitted lesson,  or  proof  of  improvement,  a  mark 
of  credit  was  entered  in  the  red  book.  Indolence, 
and  other  faults,  gained  a  mark  in  the  sad-coloured 
one.  At  the  close  of  every  week  or  month,  the 


DOMESTIC    EDUCATION.  115 

father,  with  some  seriousness  of  ceremony,  inspected 
these  records,  and  earnestly  aided  by  his  praise  or 
blame  the  arduous  task  of  the  maternal  teacher. 
Another  mother  used  only  the  red  book  for  her 
children,  allowing  them  for  a  certain  number  of 
marks,  a  stipulated  sum,  paid  at  the  end  of  every 
month,  and  to  be  devoted  to  their  charities.  Some 
allege  that  this  introduces  a  too  mercantile  feature 
into  education.  Is  it  not  better  than  indolence? 
Various  other  modes  may  be  devised  to  give  im- 
pulse to  domestic  culture,  for  why  need  a  mother 
be  less  ingenious,  or  less  fruitful  in  expedients, 
than  a  school-mistress?  Yet  let  her  be  careful 
not  to  urge  too  much  the  progress  of  her  younger 
pupils,  lest  health  suifer,  or  the  temper  gather 
asperity  from  competition. 

Possibly,  there  may  be  some  mother  frank 
enough  to  say,  "  My  children  must  go  to  school : 
it  is  such  a  relief  to  have  them  sometimes  out 
of  the  way."  So  a  mother  thought,  who  took 
her  little  girl  from  the  nursery,  and  bade  her 
scarce  older  brother  lead  her  with  him  to  school. 
There  she  sat  upon  the  hard  bench,  her  tiny  feet 
swinging  above  the  floor,  till  the  feebly-strung 
muscles  were  weary  and  in  pain.  She  looked, 
in  her  wondering  innocence,  upon  the  ways  of 
naughty  children,  and  imbibed  more  of  the  evil, 
than  of  the  goodness  which  rebuked  it.  She  opened 
her  ears  wide  at  the  sound  of  improper  words, 


116  LETTERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

and  adopted  their  use,  without  knowing  their 
meaning.  So  she,  who  was  sent  from  home  be- 
cause of  the  noise  of  her  lively  play,  or  the  in- 
terruptions of  her  curious  questioning,  brought  a 
deeper  care,  by  becoming  a  subject  of  moral  dis- 
cipline. 

She  was  once  proceeding  homeward,  more  de- 
murely than  when  she  first  attended  school,  for 
the  consciousness  of  wrong  conduct  had  found 
its  way  to  her  heart,  and  quelled  its  buoyant  hap- 
piness. It  was  touching  to  see  a  little  one  so 
sad.  Her  brother  left  her  for  a  moment,  to  slide 
down  an  ice-covered  hill.  He  charged  her  to  wait 
for  him  in  the  spot  where  he  placed  her.  But 
soon  she  attempted  to  run  to  him.  A  pair  of  gay 
horses  threw  her  down,  and  a  loaded  sleigh  pass- 
ing over  her,  literally  divided  her  breast.  She 
was  taken  up  breathless,  a  crushed  and  broken 
flower.  She  was  out  of  the  way. 

A  mother,  in  one  of  our  smaller  country-towns, 
had  a  large  family  of  daughters.  She  thought  it 
would  be  a  relief  to  her,  if  but  one  of  them 
were  out  of  the  way.  So  she  selected  the  wild- 
est, to  be  sent  to  a  boarding-school.  She  had 
been  accustomed  to  rural  sports  and  employments, 
and  free  exercise  about  her  father's  grounds.  The 
impure  atmosphere  of  a  crowded  city  in  summer, 
the  close  stoves  in  winter,  the  comparative  and 
enervating  stillness  of  the  whole  year,  induced  a 


DOMESTIC    EDUCATION.  117 

change  of  habits,  and  declension  of  health.  Long 
sitting  at  the  piano,  and  the  rigid  compression  of 
corsets,  troubled  the  seat  of  life.  When  she  re- 
turned home  on  vacations,  it  was  exultingly  re- 
marked by  the  parents,  how  lady-like  she  had 
grown,  and  how  much  more  delicate  than  her 
ruddy  sisters.  Indeed,  she  was  pale  as  a  lily,  and 
inactive  to  a  remarkable  degree.  It  was  not  long 
ere  spinal  disease  revealed  itself;  and  muscular 
energy,  and  pure  animal  spirits,  were  lost.  She 
indeed  existed,  but  the  wreck  of  her  former  self. 
Debility  and  confinement  cut  her  off  from  society, 
and  from  the  joys  of  life.  She  was  out  of  the  way. 
There  is  yet  another  form  of  putting  children 
out  of  the  way,  which,  though  by  no  means  com- 
mon in  our  country,  is  still  visible,  with  certain 
modifications,  in  fashionable  life.  It  consists  in 
consigning  their  infancy  too  exclusively  to  the 
charge  of  hirelings,  and  to  the  bounds  of  the  nur- 
sery. A  young  mother  complained  that  her  chil- 
dren were  so  numerous,  and  so  near  of  an  age, 
that  she  had  neither  repose  or  comfort.  She 
found  it  impossible  to  nurse  them.  Her  husband 
also  thought  it  would  hurt  her  form,  and  make 
her  old  before  her  time.  By  this  philosophy,  she 
reserved  to  herself  all  the  suffering  of  introdu- 
cing infancy  into  the  world,  and  excluded  that 
heartfelt  and  hallowed  intercourse,  which  gives  to 
pain  "an  over-payment  of  delight." 


118  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

She  placed  her  nursery  in  the  highest  story  of 
her  lofty  house,  that  she  need  not  be  disturbed 
by  its  noise.  She  said  she  went  there  "  as  often 
as  possible,  though  it  was  excessively  fatiguing  to 
climb  those  endless  stairs."  But  she  always  pro- 
cured an  ample  number  of  nurses,  without  refe- 
rence to  expense,  and  was  satisfied  that  they  had 
the  most  excellent  care.  One  day  she  was  in- 
formed that  her  youngest  was  sick.  She  went 
to  it,  but  thought  the  nurse  was  unnecessarily 
alarmed.  She  staid  with  it  as  long  as  was  in  her 
power,  considering  she  was  engaged  to  a  ball  that 
evening.  After  she  was  entirely  dressed,  she  took 
pains  to  come  up  again  and  inquire  after  it.  The 
nurse  told  her  it  was  no  better.  She  was  sure 
the  nurse  was  unreasonably  timid.  It  had  but  a 
slight  cough.  Still  she  did  not  remain  at  the 
ball  as  late  as  usual,  or  dance  with  her  usual 
spirit.  She  said  to  her  husband,  that  such  was 
her  anxiety  for  the  little  one,  that  she  should  not 
have  gone  at  all,  had  she  not  felt  under  the 
strongest  obligations  to  attend  the  first  entertain- 
ment of  her  most  particular  friend.  At  her  re- 
turn, she  hastened  to  the  nursery.  The  hopeless 
stage  of  croup  had  seized  the  agonizing  victim. 
Another  also  betrayed  the  same  fatal  indications. 
The  skill  of  the  physician,  and  the  frantic  grief 
of  the  mother,  were  alike  vain.  With  the  fearful 
suddenness  which  often  marks  the  termination  of 


DOMESTIC    EDUCATION.  119 

the  diseases  of  infancy,  two  beautiful  beings  soon 
lay  like  sculptured  marble.  With  the  assiduous 
care  of  the  mother,  the  result  might  indeed  have 
been  the  same,  and  yet  it  was  a  touching  and 
mournful  thought  at  this  time  of  sorrow,  that  it 
had  been  a  principal  object,  ever  since  their  birth, 
to  have  them  kept  out  of  the  way.  And  now 
they  had  gone — to  return  no  more. 

But  will  He  who  gave  us  our  children,  justify 
us  in  devising  means  to  have  them  put  out  of 
our  way  ?  Was  it  to  be  supposed  that  the  mother, 
on  whose  bosom  he  laid  them,  would  be  mainly 
anxious  to  escape  from  their  care?  that  she 
should  find  her  nerves  so  much  injured  by  their 
merry  voices,  their  healthful  play,  or  their  active 
curiosity,  as  to  be  willing  to  endanger  their  well- 
being,  if  they  might  only  be  removed  from  her 
presence  1 

I  am  aware  that  these  thoughts  on  domestic 
education  may  be  deemed  prolix.  And  yet  it 
would  be  easier  to  apologize  for  saying  so  much, 
than  to  satisfy  the  conscience  for  having  said  so 
little:  so  important  is  it,  that  mothers  be  aroused 
to  do  more  for  the  true  welfare  of  their  children 
than  they  have  hitherto  done.  "No  instruction," 
says  an  eloquent  French  writer,  "will  throw  deep 
roots  into  a  country,  unless  it  reach  children 
through  the  mother,  and  men  through  women. 
The  public  instructor  is  only  a  drv  instrument, 


120  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

who  teaches  the  alphabet ;  the  mother  of  a  family 
is  a  moral  power,  ripening  thought,  at  the  same 
time  that  she  opens  hearts  to  love,  and  souls  to 
charity." 

It  is  not  to  be  expected,  that  all  who  might  de- 
sire it,  are  so  situated  as  to  be  able  to  take  charge 
of  the  education  of  their  children.  Still  there 
are  many  whom  fortune  favours,  who  have  "no 
heart  for  the  matter."  It  would  seem  the  duty 
of  those  mothers  to  attempt  it,  who  are  relieved 
from  the  necessity  of  labour  for  their  subsistence, 
who  have  comfortable  health,  a  competent  share 
of  knowledge,  and  minds  open  to  improvement, 
especially  if  they  have  a  rural  situation,  where 
their  little  pupils  can  enjoy  free  exercise,  a  room 
which  can  be  devoted  exclusively  to  their  instruc- 
tion, and  in  the  family  a  sister,  friend,  or  well- 
trained  dependent,  capable  of  acting  as  assistant 
or  substitute. 

Let  us  keep  our  children  for  our  own,  during 
their  earlier  years.  The  world  will  have  them 
long  enough  afterwards.  \ 


IDIOM    OF   CHARACTER.  121 


LETTER   XI. 

IDIOM    OF   CHARACTER. 

ONE  striking  advantage  of  a  system  of  educa- 
tion conducted  at  home,  is,  that  it  may  be  adapted 
to  the  different  dispositions  of  its  subjects.  In  a 
school,  this  is  almost  impossible.  Had  the  teacher 
the  tact  to  discover  the  nameless  idiosyncracies 
of  those  under  his  care,  the  very  nature  of  his 
office  would  preclude  him  from  thoroughly  avail- 
ing himself  of  that  knowledge.  His  code  of  laws 
cannot  bend  to  the  differing  taste,  and  construc- 
tion of  his  pupils.  How  can  he  turn  aside  from 
the  labours  of  scholastick  culture,  to  study  the  end- 
less variety  of  character,  and  to  inquire  whose 
feeble  virtue  needs  a  prop,  or  whose  timid  intellect, 
encouragement. 

This  knowledge  of  the  varying  nature  of  her 
children,  is  almost  intuitive  to  a  discerning  mother. 
Those  who  have  reared  large  families,  assert  that 
there  are  no  two  alike.  The  self-confidence  of 
one  requires  restraint,  and  the  diffidence  of  another 
seeks  a  sheltering  kindness ;  one  is  controuled 
through  the  affections,  another,  by  arguments 
11 


122  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

addressed  to  the  understanding;  to  one,  the  re- 
proof of  the  eye  brings  tears ;  another  must  have 
the  induction  of  particulars,  and  the  poignancy 
of  remonstrance,  or  of  suffering,  to  produce  con- 
trition. The  evil  of  subjecting  all  to  the  same 
discipline,  must  be  obvious.  Yet,  where  they  are 
cultivated  in  masses,  it  seems  inevitable. .  Some 
are  so  utterly  confounded  by  the  presence  of  supe- 
riors, as  never  to  do  themselves  justice  ;  others  with 
a  reckless  hardihood  pass  on,  disguising  both  super- 
ficial attainment  and  defective  principle.  Some 
Cowper  may  shrink  and  agonize,  unpitied;  some 
Benedict  Arnold  wear  his  traitor's  mask  undetect- 
ed ;  some  Buonaparte  enact  on  a  miniature  scale, 
schemes  of  latent  ambition,  or  of  petty  tyranny. 

These  elements  of  character,  the  mother  has  the 
means  of  discovering,  and  should  attempt  the  task 
to  rectify.  She  would  blame  the  folly  of  the  gar- 
dener, who  should  plunge  the  amaryllis  in  dry  sand, 
or  shelter  the  arctic  pine  in  his  green-house :  let 
her  avoid  similar  errors  in  the  nurture  of  plants 
that  are  to  exist  forever. 

Home-education  is  often  a  source  of  great  hap- 
piness to  its  subjects.  An  instance  of  it  is  thus 
described  by  a  father,  who,  with  the  assistance  of 
the  mother,  took  charge  of  his  son's  intellectual 
culture,  from  his  earliest  years,  and  found  it  an 
employment  imparting  perpetual  delight  : 

"  His  first  perceivable  inclination,  was  for  diaw- 


IDIOM    OF    CHARACTER.  123 

ing,  in  which  he  engaged  when  almost  an  infant. 
While  occupied  in  this  favourite  amusement,  a 
dissected  alphabet  was  placed  before  him,  and  so 
great  was  his  desire  to  furnish  his  little  drawings 
with  suitable  titles,  that  he  soon,  made  himself 
master  of  it. 

"  Now,  a  new  field  of  pleasure  was  opened  for 
him  to  range  in,  and  from  the  productions  of  the 
pencil,  his  mind  was  turned  to  the  various  arrange- 
ments, and  combinations  of  these  letters.  So, 
that,  at  an  age,  when  many  children  have  scarcely 
learned  their  names,  he  was  forming  them  into 
short  sentences,  not  only  of  a  playful,  but  of  a 
devotional  cast.  This  not  only  ascertained  the 
growth  of  his  intellectual  powers,  but  gave  satis- 
factory assurance  to  his  affectionate  parents,  that 
their  pious  instructions  had  not  been  lost  jupon 
his  tender  heart. 

"As  the  higher  branches  of  knowledge  allured 
him,  he  devoted  himself  assiduously  to  their  ac- 
quisition. He  was  cheerfully  prepared  for  every 
necessary  exercise,  and  always  inclined  rather 
to  exceed,  than  to  fall  short  of  his  appointed  task. 
He  complained  of  no  difficulty,  he  solicited  no 
help.  He  considered  the  little  labours  of  every 
day,  as  a  reasonable  service,  and  readily,  on 
all  occasions,  submitted  his  will  to  that  of  his 
father.  During  his  studies,  his  sweet  and  placid 
disposition  was  constantly  displaying  itself. 


124  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

"  While  quite  a  child,  he  became  acquainted  with 
the  rudiments  of  the  Latin  tongue,  and  by  many 
fair  words  persuaded  his  nurse  (a  very  worthy 
young  woman,  who  had  attended  him  from  his 
infancy)  to  become  his  scholar.  Such  pleasure 
did  he  derive  from  his  studies,  that  he  left  no 
means  untried,  to  engage  her  attention,  and  would 
often  set  before  her  the  honourable  distinction  of 
excelling  in  knowledge  all  the  young  women  in 
her  parish.  He  drew  up  for  her,  an  abridgement 
of  his  Grammar,  to  which  he  added  a  short  vocabu- 
lary, and  was  never  without  a  few  slips  of  paper 
in  his  pocket,  on  which  was  some  noun  regularly 
declined,  for  her  benefit.  If  the  day  had  failed  to 
furnish  sufficient  time  to  attend  to  his  lessons,  he 
redoubled  his  assiduity  when  she  conducted  him 
to  his  chamber  at  night,  and  was  never  content 
without  hearing  her  repeat  the  Lord's  prayer  in 
Greek." 

His  desire  to  impart  to  his  kind  nurse  the 
pleasures  of  knowledge,  proved  both  the  simple 
benevolence  of  his  nature,  and  the  happiness  which 
he  derived  from  a  system  of  parental  culture. 
Might  this  not  be  more  frequently  enjoyed  by 
children  in  their  earlier  years,  if  mothers  were 
willing  to  make  efforts  correspondent  to  the  im- 
portance of  the  object  ? 

Permit  me  to  say  to  those  mothers  who  interest 
themselves  in  the  education  of  their  children,  be 


.    , 

IDIOM    OF   CHARACTER.  125 

assiduous  early  to  implant  domestic  tastes  in  the 
minds  of  your  daughters.  Let  your  little  girl  sit 
by  your  side,  with  her  needle.  Do  not  put  her 
from  you,  when  you  discharge  those  employ- 
ments which  are  for  the  comfort  of  the  family. 
Let  her  take  part  in  them,  as  far  as  her  feeble 
hand  may  be  capable.  Teach  her  that  this  will 
be  her  province,  when  she  becomes  a  woman. 
Inspire  her  with  a  desire  to  make  all  around  her, 
comfortable  and  happy.  Instruct  her  in  the  rudi- 
ments of  that  science,  whose  results  are  so  beat- 
tiful.  Teach  her,  that  not  selfish  gratification, 
but  the  good  of  a  household,  the  improvement  of 
even  the  humblest  dependent,  is  the  business  of 
her  sex.  When  she  questions  you,  repay  her 
curiosity,  with  clear  and  loving  explanations. 
When  you  walk  out,  to  call  on  your  friends, 
sometimes  take  her  with  you.  Especially,  if  you 
visit  the  aged,  or  go  on  errands  of  mercy  to  the 
sick  and  poor,  let  her  be  your  companion.  Allow 
her  to  sit  by  the  side  of  the  sufferer,  and  learn 
those  nursing  services  which  afford  relief  to  pain. 
Associate  her  with  you.  Make  her  your  friend. 
Purify  and  perfect  your  own  example  for  her 
sake.  And  while  you  mingle  with  domestic  train- 
ing, and  with  the  germs  of  benevolence,  a  know- 
ledge of  the  world  of  books,  to  which  it  will  be  a 
sweet  privilege  to  introduce  her,  should  you  be 
able  to  add  not  a  single  fashionable  accomplish- 
11* 


126  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

ment,  still  be  continually  thankful,  if  you  have 
been  successful  in  shielding  her  from  the  conta- 
gion of  evil  example. 

The  Countess  of  Pembroke,  illustrious  for  her 
love  of  science,  and  the  fortitude  with  which  she 
endured  the  trials  of  those  troublous  times  in 
which  she  lived,  thus  speaks  in  her  journal,  with 
affecting  simplicity,  of  her  obligations  to  maternal 
care  and  piety : 

"From  my  dear  mother,  I  drew  that  milk  of 
goodness,  which  makes  the  mind  strong  against 
all  the  storms  of  fortune.  Many  dangerous  de- 
vices of  enemies  have  I  passed  through  without 
harm,  by  the  help,  as  I  think,  of  her  prayers,  in- 
cessantly imploring  of  God  my  preservation  and 
safety.  In  my  domestic  troubles  I  gave  myself 
up  to  retiredness,  as  much  as  I  could,  making 
good  books  and  virtuous  thoughts  my  compan- 
ions, which  can  never  be  daunted  by  slanders,  or 
adversities,  however  unjustly  they  may  happen. 
And  by  a  happy  disposition  I  overcame  evil,  the 
prayers  of  my  blessed  mother  helping  me  there- 
unto." 

In  the  discipline  of  sons,  mothers  need  a  double 
portion  of.  the  wisdom  that  is  from  above.  Let 
them  ever  keep  in  view  the  different  spheres  of 
action  allotted  to  the  sexes.  What  they  blame  as 
obstinacy,  may  be  but  that  firmness,  and  fixed- 
ness of  purpose,  which  will  hereafter  be  needed 


IDIOM    OP   CHARACTER.  127 

to  overcome  the  obstacles  of  their  adventurous 
course.  Perhaps,  it  is  hardly  to  be  expected  that 
they  should  be  reduced  to  the  full  degree  of  fem- 
inine subordination,  any  more  than  inured  to  the 
routine  of  domestic  employment.  The  German 
poet  has  well  depicted  the  early-unfolded  linea- 
ments of  the  ruling  sex  : 

"  Boys  are  driven 

To  wild  pursuits  by  mighty  impulses. 
Out  of  a  mother's  anxious  hand  they  tear 
The  leading-strings,  and  give  the  reins  to  nature, 
Even  as  the  sportive  hoof  of  the  young  horse 
Raises  the  dust  in  clouds." 

The  mother,  who  in  the  infancy  of  her  chil- 
dren, puts  into  the  arms  of  the  girl  a  doll,  and 
patiently  endures  the  noise  from  the  hammer  of 
the  boy-baby,  conforms  to  the  difference  and  to 
the  destination  which  has  been  marked  on  them 
by  Creating  Wisdom. 

But  is  she  therefore  to  take  any  less  pains  to 
soften  and  mould  her  sou  to  his  duty?  Oh  no. 
On  the  contrary,  she  must  lake"  more,  and  begin 
earlier.  Her  toil  for  him  must  emphatically  be 
amid  the  dews  of  the  morning.  For  by  the  con- 
stitution of  society,  he  must  be  earlier  removed 
from  the  influence  of  home  than  his  pliant  sister, 
and  by  the  innate  consciousness  of  being  born  to 
bear  rule,  will  sooner  revolt  from  the  authority 
of  woman.  Let  the  mother,  while  she  refrains 


128  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

from  attempting  to  break  down  the  barrier  which 
an  Unerring  Hand  erected  between  the  sexes,  lose 
no  time  in  enthroning  herself  in  the  heart  of  her 
son.  Let  her  cultivate  tenderness  of  conscience, 
and  fix  deep  in  his  soul  the  immutable  distinc- 
tion between  right  and  wrong,  that,  from  an  early 
implanted  reverence  for  the  law  of  God,  he  may 
be  qualified  to  "become  a  law  unto  himself." 
She  should  keep  her  hold  on  his  affections,  -and 
encourage  him  to  confide  to  her,  without  reserve, 
his  intentions  and  his  hopes,  his  errors  and  his 
enjoyments.  Thus  maintaining  her  pre-eminence 
in  the  sanctuary  of  his  mind,  her  image  will  be 
as  a  tutelary  seraph,  not  seeming  to  bear  rule, 
yet  spreading  perpetually  the  wings  of  purity  and 
peace  over  its  beloved  shrine,  and  keeping  guard 
for  God. 

Let  mothers  beware  of  adopting  the  opinion, 
i  that  though  they  may  do  much  for  daughters, 
yet  sons  are  beyond  their  controul.  This  is  a 
false  and  fatal  conclusion.  It  is  true,  that  with 
regard  to  them,  the  inspired  injunction  may  be 
quoted  with  double  power,  "what  thou  doest,  do 
quickly."  Maternal  influence,  unless  early  riveted, 
is  often  reduced  to  a  mere  shadow,  by  the  pur- 
suits and  excitements  of  popular  education.  "I 
compare  the  sending  a  boy  to  a  publick  school, 
or  college,"  says  a  judicious  writer,  "to  the  act 
of  the  Scythian  mothers,  who  threw  their  new- 


IDIOM    OF    CHARACTER.  129 

born  children  into  the  sea:  the  greater  part  were, 
of  course,  drowned,  but  the  few  who  escaped 
with  life,  were  uncommonly  strong  and  vigor- 
ous." Could  any  additional  argument  be  needed 
to  induc.e  mothers  to  throw  the  shield  of  their 
preserving  and  hallowing  influences  over  their 
sons,  ere  they  emerge  from  the  cradle,  it  might 
be  found  in  the  fact  which  both  history  and  ob- 
servation confirm,  that  the  most  illustrious  men 
have  been  often  modified  in .  their  early  years  by 
the  hand  of  the  mother.  "  Give  us,"  said  an  ex- 
perienced instructor,  "such  boys  as  have  been 
blessed  with  the  instruction  of  pious  mothers. 
Truths  thus  instilled,  are  interwoven  with  the 
fibres  of  the  soul." 

Helena,  the  mother  of  Constantine  the  Great, 
was  an  extraordinary  woman.  Notwithstanding 
the  rudeness  of  her  own  native  realm  of  Britain, 
and  the  low  state  of  learning  among  her  sex,  she 
wrote  several  works,  among  which  was  a  book 
of  Greek  verses ;  and  the  principles  which  she 
early  infused  into  the  mind  of  that  Christian  em- 
peror, undoubtedly  had  great  influence  in  deter- 
mining his  future  course. 

The  mother  of  the  illustrious  Lord  Bacon 
breathed  into  his  mind,  in  the  forming  period  of 
childhood,  her  own  love  of  learning;  and  while 
she  instructed  him  in  the  rudiments  of  science, 
awakened  that  spirit  of  liberal  curiosity  and  re- 


130  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

search  which  afterwards  induced  him  to  take  "all 
knowledge  to  be  his  province."  Her  influence 
also  on  the  mind  of  King  Edward  6th,  to  whom 
in  his  early  years  she  was  governess,  was  emi- 
nently happy.  He  derived  from  her  much  of  that 
spirit  of  zealous  and  consistent  piety  which  was 
developed  in  her  own  youth,  and  moved  her, 
while  occupied  with  other  studies,  to  translate 
from  the  Italian  twenty-five  sermons  on  abstruse 
and  important  tenets  of  faith. 

The  Baron  Cuvier,  from  the  extreme  feebleness 
of  his  childhood,  came  almost  constantly  under  the 
care  of  his  mother.  The  sweetness  of  this  inter- 
course, dwelt  on  his  memory  throughout  the 
whole  of  his  life.  He  loved  to  recall  her  atten- 
tions, to  dwell  on  every  circumstance  that  remind- 
ed him  of  her.  But  she  did  not  confine  her  cares 
to  his  health  alone.  She  exerted  herself  to  form 
his  mind.  She  taught  him  to  read  fluently  at  the 
age  of  four  years,  made  him  draw  under  her  in- 
spection, listened  daily  to  his  recitations  in  Latin, 
though  she  had  not  herself  been  instructed  in  that 
language,  perused  with  him  the  best  authors,  in- 
stilled into  him  a  reverence  for  religious  duties, 
and  fostered  that  ardent  desire  for  knowledge, 
which  afterwards  rendered  him  so  illustrious. 

It  is  a  touching  testimony  which  William  Ros- 
coe,  so  celebrated  for  his  writings  and  his  philan- 
thropy, thus  pays  to  his  maternal  guide.  After 


IDIOM    OF   CHARACTER.  131 

speaking  of  a  teacher  to  whom  he  was  gratefully 
attached,  he  says,  "  to  his  care,  and  to  the  instruc- 
tions of  a  kind  and  affectionate  mother,  I  believe 
I  may  safely  attribute  any  good  principles  which 
may  have  appeared  in  my  conduct  during  life. 
To  my  mother,  I  owe  the  inculcation  of  those 
sentiments  of  humanity,  which  became  a  principle 
in  my  mind.  Nor  did  she  neglect  to  supply  me 
with  such  books  as  contributed  to  my  literary  im- 
provement." Sir  Walter  Scott  says,  "if  I  have 
been  enabled  to  do  any  thing  in  the  way  of  paint- 
ing the  past  times,  it  is  owing  very  much  to  the 
studies  with  which  my  mother  presented  me." 

The  agency  exercised  by  the  mother  of  Wash- 
ington, in  forming  that  character  which  the  world 
delighted  to  honour,  is  a  subject  of  elevating 
contemplation.  His  undeviating  integrity  and 
unshaken  self-command,  were  developments  of 
her  own  elements  of  character,  fruits  from  those 
germs  which  she  planted  in  the  soil  of  his  in- 
fancy. She  combined  the  Spartan  firmness  and 
simplicity,  with  the  deep  affections  of  a  Christian 
matron,  and  all  this  concentrated  influence  was 
brought  to  bear  upon  her  son,  who,  by  the  early 
death  of  his  father,  passed  more  entirely  under 
her  discipline.  He,  who  has  been  likened  to 
Fabius,  to  Cincinnatus,  and  to  other  heroes  of 
antiquity,  only  to  show  how  he  transcended  each 
by  the  consistency  of  a  Christian,  he  who  caused 


132  LETTERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

the  shades  of  Mount  Vernon  to  be  as  sacred  to 
the  patriot  as  the  shrine  at  Mecca  to  the  pilgrim, 
shares  his  glory  with  her  who  wrought  among  the 
rudiments  of  his  being  with  no  idle  or  uncertain 
hand.  The  monument  which  now  designates  her 
last  repose,  speaks  eloquently  to  her  sex,  bidding 
them  to  impress  the  character  of  true  greatness 
upon  the  next  generation.  It  warns  them  to  pre- 
pare by  unslumbering  efforts,  for  their  own  solemn 
responsibility.  Let  her  who  is  disposed  to  indulge 
in  lassitude,  or  to  forget  that  she  may  stamp  an 
indelible  character  either  for  good  or  evil,  on  the 
immortal  mind  submitted  to  her  regency,  go,  and 
renounce  her  errors,  and  deepen  her  energies,  and 
relumine  her  hopes,  at  the  tomb  of  "Mary,  the 
mother  of  Washington." 

But  though  we  cannot  all  rationally  expect  to 
rear  distinguished  men,  since  it  is  the  lot  of  but 
few  to  attain  distinction,  yet  it  is  equally  our  duty 
to  persevere  kindly  and  prayerfully,  with  un- 
promising materials.  The  future  payment  often 
transcends  the  culturer's  hope.  The  mother  of 
the  celebrated  Sheridan,  who  was  herself  a  lite- 
rary woman,  pronounced  him  the  dullest  and 
most  hopeless  of  her  sons 

Boys  have  sometimes  a  roughness,  or  apparent 
want  of  impressibility,  which  exceedingly  troubles 
a  susceptible  parent.  In  this  structure  of  mind, 
there  is  much  to  stimulate  effort,  and  to  encourage 


IDIOM   OF   CHARACTER.  133 

hope.  A  powerful  writer  has  said,  that  "  the  finest, 
richest,  and  most  generous  species  of  character,  is 
perhaps  that  which  early  presents  the  most  re- 
pulsive surface.  Within  the  rough  rind,  the 
feelings  are  preserved  unsophisticated,  vigorous 
and  healthy.  The  noli  me  tangere  outside,  keeps 
out  that  insidious  swarm  of  artificial  sentimentali- 
ties, which  taint  and  adulterate,  and  may  final- 
ly expel  all  natural  and  vigorous  emotions  from 
within  us.  The  idea  of  a  perfect  man,  has  always 
been  figured  forth  in  our  minds,  by  the  emblem 
of  the  lion  coming  out  of  the  lamb,  or  the  lamb 
coming  out  of  the  lion." 

I  am  persuaded  that  mothers  too  much  endea- 
vour to  equalize  idiom  of  character.  But  it  usually 
proves  one  of  the  many  unsuccessful  attempts  of 
warring  against  nature.  If,  indeed,  it  could  be 
accomplished,  what  would  it  be,  but  to  level  those 
beautiful  undulations,  which  He  who  diversified 
the  wonderful  frame  of  creation,  saw  fit  also  to 
intersperse  amid  the  realm  of  mind,  giving  to 
society  somewhat  of  that  variation,  which,  in  the 
landscape,  we  so  much  admire.  In  moral  ob- 
servance, in  religious  duty,  there  must  be  no  com- 
promise ;  but  let  the  native  taste  sometimes  look 
forth  unblamed,  and  the  differing  opinion  be  not 
too  closely  fettered,  and  the  firm  resolve,  that 
column  of  future  majesty  in  man,  be  not  cause- 
lessly smitten  down. 
12 


134  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

There  is  a  levity  of  character,  which  persuades 
a  desponding  mother,  though  incorrectly,  that  her 
instructions  make  no  abiding  impression.  "I  do 
not  dislike  extreme  vivacity  in  children,"  said  the 
excellent  Miss  Hannah  More.  "I  would  wish  to 
see  enough  to  make  an  animated  character,  when 
the  violence  of  animal  spirits  shall  subside  by 
time.  Such  volatile  beings  are  thought  peculiarly 
difficult  to  manage,  but  it  is  easier  to  restrain  ex- 
cess, than  to  quicken  inanity."  When  we  see  the 
demands  which  the  cares  and  labours  of  life  make 
upon  the  animal  spirits,  it  seems  safest  to  set  out 
with  a  superflux.  Gravity  in  childhood,  may 
become  stupidity  in  old  age,  and  the  mother  who 
feels  herself  tried  with  the  exceeding  vivacity  of 
her  young  family,  can  remember  that  it  is  a  tem- 
perament which  this  hard-working  world  will  be 
sure  to  reduce,  even  if  her  monitions  and  their 
own  good  sense  should  fail  to  regulate  it. 

There  are  also  instances  on  record  to  encour-  . 
age  and  cheer  them,  with  regard  to  the  most  un- 
promising children,  of  whom  perhaps  they  are 
tempted  to  say  in  moments  of  anguish,  that  they 
have  "laboured  in  vain,  and  spent  their  strength 
for  naught."  Dr.  Barrow,  one  of  the  most  learned 
and  eloquent  English  divines,  on  whom  the  criti- 
cal Dr.  Johnson  pronounced  the  strongest  ver- 
dict of  praise,  was  in  early  life  regardless  of  study. 
He  seemed  even  to  have  conceived  an  aversion 


IDIOM   OP   CHARACTER.  135 

for  books,  and  became  so  addicted  to  idle  and 
contentious  company,  that  his  father,  in  bitterness 
of  spirit,  exclaimed,  "should  it  please  God  to 
take  away  any  of  my  children,  I  pray  him  that 
it  may  be  my  son  Isaac."  His  mother  had  long 
patience.  She  sustained  herself  on  His  strength, 
who  has  power  to  bring  good  out  of  evil.  Pa- 
rental care,  and  systematic  instruction,  were  per- 
severed in,  and  gained  a  great  reward.  As  the 
son,  who  was  pronounced  so  hopeless,  grew  up,  he 
evinced  a  temper  which  won  all  hearts,  and  made 
such  progress  in  science,  as  to  fill  with  honour 
the  mathematical  chair,  which  Newton  afterwards 
assumed.  Among  the  most  profound  and  uni- 
versal scholars  which  his  country  could  boast,  he 
maintained  the  highest  rank.  He  was  also  distin- 
guished as  a  powerful  advocate  of  that  religion, 
whose  transforming  influences  he  so  eminently 
illustrated. 

The  excellent  Cecil,  whose  writings  are  the 
wealth  and  solace  of  many  a  pious  heart,  was  in 
early  life  both  unpromising  arid  undutiful.  "1 
was  desperate,"  said  he.  "I  was  determined  to 
go  on  board  a  privateer.  But  I  had  a  pious 
mother.  She  talked  to  me,  and  wept  while  she 
talked.  There  are  soft  moments,  even  to  despera- 
does. God  does  not  all  at  once  abandon  them." 
One  of  the  largest  and  most  intelligent  audiences 
in  London,  who  were  under  his  spiritual  care, 


136  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

were  once  exceedingly  moved  to  hear  him  ex- 
claim from  his  pulpit,  with  surprising  candour 
and  humility,  "as  a  publick  witness  for  God  and 
for  his  truth,  I  must  tell  you  that  you  should 
never  despair.  No  distressed  woman  ever  hoped 
more  against  hope,  than  the  mother  of  your 
preacher.  But  she  prayed,  and  waited  patiently. 
She  put  her  trust  hi  an  Omnipotent  Arm.  She 
not  only  prayed,  but  she  instructed  his  mind,  and 
then  waited  God's  season.  She  lived  long  enough 
to  hear  that  child  preach  the  gospel,  which  he 
had  once  despised.  And  she  said,  'Now,  Lord, 
lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace.'" 

Though  the  great  power  of  maternal  teaching 
over  the  mind,  during  its  period  of  waxen  ten- 
derness, is  now  generally  conceded,  though  some 
of  the  most  distinguished  men  have  been  proud 
to  refer  the  early  blossoms  of  intellect,  the  prompt- 
ings of  virtue,  or  the  aspirations  of  piety,  to  the 
influence  of  a  mother,  yet  how  far  the  same 
agency  may  check  the  career  of  guilt,  or  silently 
and  steadfastly  operate  even  among  the  "children 
of  disobedience,"  it  is  less  easy  to  ascertain.  A 
man,  who  from  a  youth  of  irreligion,  was  re- 
claimed to  piety,  acknowledged,  that  though  he 
used  to  receive  the  admonitions  of  his  mother 
with  an  affectation  of  pride  and  scorn,  they  fixed 
themselves  in  his  heart,  like  a  barbed  arrow,  so 
that  tears  would  fall  from  his  eyes  as  he  passed 


IDIOM    OP   CHARACTER.  137 

along  the  streets.  The  vicious  seldom  make  such 
frank  disclosures.  Their  clouded  trains  of  senti- 
ment are  not  often  accessible  to  the  recording  pen- 
cil. Still,  we  have  a  case  in  point,  a  voice  from 
the  region  of  guilt,  speaking  of  a  pious  mother. 

In  one  of  the  prisons  of  New  England,  is  a 
man,  considerably  past  his  prime,  who  has  been 
a  doer  of  evil,  and  a  wanderer  over  the  face  of 
the  earth.  Retribution  of  various  kinds  has  over- 
taken him  in  his  career  of  crime.  Yet  he  has 
endured  all,  with  singular  hardihood  and  obsti- 
nacy. He  acknowledges  that  nothing  among  the 
punishments  of  man,  or  the  precepts  of  God,  has 
ever  made  him  "  feel  serious,  but  the  words  of  his 
mother."  When  her  last  hour  drew  nigh,  she 
sent  for  him  to  her  chamber.  He  was  then  a 
boy  of  twelve  years  old.  She  took  his  hand,  as 
he  stood  by  her  bed,  and  said,  "I  am  going  to 
leave  you,  and  shall  return  no  more."  In  the 
most  solemn  manner,  she  besought  him  to  remem- 
ber his  Creator,  and  so  to  take  care  of  his  soul, 
as  to  meet  her  in  heaven.  She  continued  to  ad- 
monish him,  until  the  hand  which  pressed  his 
was  cold  in  death.  For  almost  half  a  century, 
this  son  was  passing  through  grades  of  crime,  too 
revolting  for  description.  Yet  in  his  deepest  de- 
gradations, he  confesses  that  he  has  never  been 
able  utterly  to  drive  from  his  conscience  the 
words  of  his  pious  mpther,  or  to  recall  them  with- 
12* 


138  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

out  emotion.  May  they  not  yet  be  made  instru- 
ments of  repentance?  May  not  the  seed  which 
has  so  long  retained  life  in  an  uncongenial  soil, 
yet  be  quickened  to  bear  fruit?  Who  can  define 
the  limits  of  a  mother's  influence,  save  the  God 
of  the  mother? 

A  pious  mother,  in  her  prayers  with  her  little 
son,  was  accustomed  to  lay  her  hand  upon  his 
head.  She  died  while  he  was  yet  too  young  to 
realize  the  loss  which  he  had  sustained.  He 
grew  up  an  uncurbed  and  wayward  boy,  whom 
none  seemed  to  understand,  and  few  to  love. 
Yet  in  his  most  reckless  and  passionate  parox- 
ysms, something  seemed  partially  to  restrain  and 
rule  him.  He  said  it  was  a  hand  upon  his  head, 
like  his  mother's  hand.  Often  he  yielded  at  its 
touch,  and  wept  bitterly.  In  the  flush  and  fever 
of  youth,  he  travelled  widely  over  foreign  lands. 
Vice  tempted  him,  and  the  virtue  which  should 
have  withstood  it,  had  but  a  frail  rooting.  Still, 
something  withheld  him.  It  was  the  same  hand 
upon  his  head,  a  soft,  cool  hand.  He  dared  not 
utterly  to  cast  off  its  controul. 

In  his  old  age  he  said  to  some  children,  "a 
hand  is  upon  my  head,  upon  my  few,  hoary 
locks,  the  same  hand  that  used  to  rest  in  prayer, 
among  the  fresh,  sunny  curls  of  my  infancy.  And 
if  I  am  ever  saved,  it  will  be  by  that  mother's 
hand,  and  my  Redeemer's  mercy." 


SCHOOLS.  139 


LETTER    XII. 

SCHOOLS. 

FROM  the  ardour  with  which  I  have  advocated 
domestic  education,  I  hope  it  will  not  be  inferred 
that  I  feel  little  interest  in  the  welfare  of  schools. 
Oh  no  !  I  would  not  be  so  untrue  to  my  coun- 
try, as  to  omit  any  argument  which  would  tend 
to  their  support  and  elevation.  "  For  the  wealth 
of  a  state,"  said  the  great  Reformer,  "consists  not 
in  having  great  treasures,  solid  walls,  fair  pal- 
aces, weapons  and  armour;  but  its  best,  and  no- 
blest wealth,  and  its  truest  safety,  is  in  having 
learned,  wise,  honourable,  and  well-educated 
citizens." 

If  I  have  urged  mothers  to  do  much  for  their 
children,  it  is  because  I  have  felt  it  to  be  both 
their  duty  and  their  privilege  to  do  more  than 
they  ever  have  done.  If  I  have  laboured  to 
shew  them  what  I  deemed  "the  more  excellent 
way,"  I  have  not  been  ignorant  that  but  few 
would  think  of  entering  it.  With  the  multitude, 
whose  industry  earns  a  subsistence,  the  educa- 
tion of  their  children  would  be  impossible.  The 


140  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

few,  who  may  be  persuaded  to  assume  it,  will 
probably  depend  more  or  less  on  the  assistance 
of  private  teachers.  So,  that  the  character,  attain- 
ments and  principles  of  the  great  body  of  in- 
structors, are  important  to  the  prosperity  and 
safety  of  the  land.  It  was  the  pen  of  Burke 
that  wrote,  "Education  is  the  cheapest  defence 
of  a  nation."  "It  is  a  better  safeguard  for 
liberty,"  says  Governor  Everett,  "  than  a  standing 
army.  If  we  retrench  the  wages  of  the  school- 
master, we  must  raise  the  wages  of  the  re- 
cruiting sergeant." 

In  order  to  elevate  the  character  of  our  schools, 
let  them  be  more  select.  They  are  often  so 
much  thronged,  and  exhibit  such  disparity  of 
age,  that  the  portion  of  individual  improvement 
must  be  small  and  impeded.  In  Prussia,  which 
we  are  still  constrained  to  aclmowledge  as  our 
model,  in  many  features  of  scholastick  education, 
fifteen  are  considered  an  ample  number  for  a 
single  mind  to  rule,  and  operate  upon,  to  advan- 
tage. A  teacher,  to  fulfill  the  higher  purpose  of 
his  profession,  should  secure  the  intimacy  and 
seek  the  confidence  of  his  pupils.  But  how  can 
this  be  done,  when  they  are  so  numerous,  and  so 
frequently  changed,  as  to  continue  comparatively 
strangers  1 

Those  schools  which  desire  eminence,  should 
establish  habits  of  order  and  punctuality.  The 


SCHOOLS.  141 

division  of  time,  and  its  adaptation  to  different 
studies,  should  be  as  clearly  denned  to  each  class, 
as  the  position  of  countries  on  a  map.  Rules, 
embracing  every  gradation  of  duty,  or  variety  of 
deportment,  which  bear  on  moral  and  intellectual 
proficiency,  should  be  drawn  up,  explained,  daily 
read,  and,  if  necessary,  the  signature  of  each  pupil 
taken,  as  a  pledge  of  their  assistance  in  maintain- 
ing them.  The  correct  discipline  of  a  school  is 
its  moral  wealth ;  each  of  its  members  should 
feel,  that  whoever  infringes  it,  impairs  the  com- 
mon stock.  It  may  usually  be  sustained  with 
perfect  kindness,  and  often  forms  a  bond  of  last- 
ing attachment  between  teacher  and  scholar. 

More  munificence  in  the  salaries  of  our  public 
schools,  would  advance  their  permanence  and  ex- 
cellence. Were  their  income  sufficient  to  induce 
well-educated  men  to  choose  the  work  of  instruc- 
tion as  a  profession  for  life,  they  would  assume 
a  higher  rank,  both  in  theory  and  practice.  Teach- 
ers engaged  for  a  transient  period,  using  their 
school  as  a  stepping-stone  to  some  other  station, 
perhaps,  occupied  at  the  same  time  in  the  study 
of  the  profession  on  which  their  future  subsist- 
ence is  to  depend,  bring  but  wandering  thoughts 
and  divided  affections  to  a  service  which  demands 
the  concentration  of  both.  The  community  will 
find  parsimony  ill-placed,  where  the  mental  and 
moral  culture  of  its  youth  are  concerned. 


142  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

The  establishment  of  Normal  Schools,  would  be 
a  great  blessing  to  our  country,  and  is  a  sub- 
ject which  demands  public  attention  and  munifi- 
cent patronage.  For  in  our  primary  and  district 
schools,  where  reformation  is  the  most  necessary, 
the  education  of  their  teachers  is  often  exceed- 
ingly defective.  "In  every  age,  even  among  the 
heathen,"  said  Luther,  "the  necessity  has  been 
felt  of  having  good  tutors  and  schoolmasters,  in 
order  to  make  any  thing  respectable  of  a  nation. 
But  surely,  we  are  not  to  sit  still  and  wait  until 
they  grow  up  of  themselves.  We  can  neither 
chop  them  out  of  wood,  nor  hew  them  out  of 
stone.  God  will  work  no  miracles  to  furnish  that 
which  we  have  means  to  provide.  We  must 
therefore  apply  our  care  and  money  to  train  up 
and  to  make  them." 

Well-chosen  libraries,  connected  with  the  schools 
in  our  remote  villages,  are  a  desirable  appendage. 
A  regular  system  of  drawing  out  and  returning 
the  books  should  be  established ;  perhaps  the  right 
of  doing  so,  might  be  used  as  a  reward  of  good 
scholarship  and  correct  conduct.  A  condition 
should  always  be  annexed,  that  each  one  who 
has  been  favoured  with  the  perusal  of  a  volume, 
should  render  some  account  of  its  contents  to  the 
teacher,  in  presence  of  the  school,  that  all  may 
share  in  the  benefit.  Some  knowledge  of  the 
structure  of  the  mind  is  requisite,  to  guide  even 


SCHOOLS.  143 

the  youngest  pupils  to  improvement.  Yet  in  our 
obscure  villages,  if  there  is  any  decayed,  old 
woman,  who  is  too  feeble  to  acquire  a  living  by 
the  spinning-wheel,  or  needle,  how  often  is  it  said, 
that  she  will  do  to  "keep  a  school  for  the  little 
ones."  For  the  little  ones!  at  that  most  plastick 
period  of  life,  when  the  impressions  which  are 
received  are  to  last  forever? 

Simpson,  of  Edinburgh,  in  his  work  on  Popu- 
lar Education,  says  most  justly,  "Prussian  law- 
givers have  wisely  considered  the  best  plan  of 
teaching  as  a  dead  letter,  without  good  and  able 
teachers ;  and  to  expect  these  without  training, 
is  to  look  for  a  crop  without  ploughing  or  sowing. 
An  instructor,  well  endowed  with  knowledge,  and 
distinguished  by  a  lively  and  exciting  manner  of 
communication,  who  can  keep  alive  wonder,  and 
put  into  his  lessons  a  fine  admixture  of  the  high- 
er feelings,  will  possess  a  power  over  his  pupil's 
will  and  happiness,  which  forms  a  striking  con- 
trast to  the  heart-withering  irksomeness  of  the 
old  schools,  in  which  an  antiquated  and  most 
hurtful  appeal  to  the  inferior  feelings  of  fear, 
self-exultation,  vanity  or  covetousness,  was  found 
necessary  to  stimulate  the  languid  faculties." 

It  is  obvious,  that  the  character  of  our  schools 
should  keep  pace  with  the  spirit  of  our  very  ad- 
vancing age.  This  must  be  done,  by  demanding 
of  teachers,  high  degrees  of  intellectual  attain- 


144  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

ment,  of  moral  principle,  and  of  that  deep  reli- 
gious feeling,  which  shunning  sectarian  barriers, 
incorporates  itself  with  every  imparted  rudiment 
of  knowledge.  When  they  are  thus  elevated, 
let  them  be  held  in  honour.  Let  the  statesman 
consider  them  as  his  co-adjutors.  Let  jurispru- 
dence view  them  as  having  power  to  check  crime 
in  its  earliest  germinations,  and  to  diminish  the 
population  of  our  prisons,  more  than  all  the  ter- 
rors of  the  penal  code.  Let  the  guardians  of 
virtue  and  piety,  take  them  into  hallowed  brother- 
hood. Let  parents  uphold  them  with  their 
marked  respect,  and  foster  in  their  children  the 
noble  sentiment  of  Alexander,  "  I  am  indebted 
to  my  father  for  living,  but  to  my  teacher  for 
living  well" 

Those  who  have  faithfully  laboured  in  the  work 
of  education  for  many  years,  should  receive  marks 
of  distinction  from  the  community.  Among  the 
schoolmasters  in  the  duchy  of  Baden,  was  one 
who  had  continued  in  his  profession  for  half  a 
century.  The  opening  of  the  year,  1836,  com- 
pleted the  jubilee. '  It  was  determined  to  desig- 
nate it  by  a  festival.  The  Grand  Duke  wished 
also  to  add  his  tribute  of  respect.  He  sent  him. 
the  gold  medal,  only  bestowed  on  the  most  emi- 
nent civilians,  and  a  letter  in  his  own  hand- 
writing, a  compliment  which  he  seldom  paid  to 
sovereigns.  The  venerable  man  was  conducted 


SCHOOLS.  145 

in  procession  to  the  church,  accompanied  by  vocal 
musick  from  his  pupils,  of  the  most  sweet  and 
touching  character.  Then  the  Prefect,  in  the 
presence  of  a  large  assembly,  presented  him  the 
medal  and  the  autograph,  and  in  an  address 
proffered  the  gratitude  which  the  State  felt  was 
due,  for  his  services  to  its  children.  After  pray- 
ers, and  devotional  music,  they  returned  to  a 
festive  repast,  still  enlivened  with  appropriate 
musick,  and  with  expressions  of  applause  and 
affection  for  the  grey-haired  instructor.  The 
effect  of  the  whole,  was  not  only  to  breathe  new- 
life  into  the  winter  of  age,  but  to  impress  on  the 
minds  of  all  present,  that  a  pious,  faithful  teach- 
er, was  one  of  the  best  friends  of  the  nation,  and 
worthy  of  honour,  from  all  true  patriots. 

Demonstrations  of  a  regard  thus  publick,  would 
be  repugnant  to  the  delicacy  of  female  instruct- 
ors. Yet  those  mothers  who  commit  their  heart's 
jewels  to  their  keeping,  should  treat  them  as 
friends  and  counsellors,  and  cheer  them  with 
their  confidence.  Their  influence  is  sometimes 
stronger  in  correcting  faults  of  character,  than 
even  that  of  the  parent.  Let  them  be  selected 
with  the  most  careful  discrimination,  and  then 
considered  as  adjuncts  in  a  high  and  holy  work. 

Young  ladies  of  affluence  need  not  consider  it 
beneath  them,  to  engage  in  the  work  of  instruc- 
tion. It  is  one  of  the  best  modes  to  complete 


146  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

their  own  education.  It  consolidates  their  know- 
ledge, and  gives  them  readiness  in  bringing  it 
forth  when  it  may  be  needed.  It  is  no  bad  prepa- 
ration for  matrimony,  since  it  induces  habits  of 
order,  industry  and  self-controul,  beside  impart- 
ing that  knowledge  of  human  nature,  which  is  so 
valuable  to  her  who  expects  to  sit  on  the  throne 
of  that  complicated  little  kingdom,  a  household. 

If  in  the  female  heart,  there  exists,  as  has  been 
asserted,  a  love  of  power,  there  is  no  sphere  in 
which  it  may  be  enjoyed  so  perfectly,  as  in  that 
of  teaching  the  young  mind,  through  the  affec- 
tions. Hear  the  testimony  of  Madame  de  Genlis, 
to  this  point,  written  after  she  had  reached  her 
fiftieth  year.  Of  a  young  governess,  to  whose 
almost  sole  care  her  mother  yielded  her,  when  a 
child,  she  says,  "  I  became  attached  to  her  from  the 
first,  and  my  attachment  was  as  lasting  as  it  was 
lively.  Indeed,  I  loved  and  admired  her  so  much, 
that  she  might  have  taught  me  whatever  she  had 
chosen.  She  had  the  spirit  of  an  angel,  and  in 
our  solitary  walks  spoke  often  to  me  of  the  Deity. 
We  admired  with  feelings  of  extasy,  the  skies,  the 
trees,  the  flowers,  reading  in  the  works  of  God's 
hands,  the  proofs  of  his  existence.  That  idea, 
animated  and  embellished  all  nature  in  our  eyes. 
Often,  on  awaking  in  the  night,  I  used  to  leave 
my  bed,  and  prostrate  myself  on  the  floor,  in 
prayer  to  the  Deity."  Such  an  effect  had  the 


SCHOOLS.  147 

goodness  of  heart  and  unaffected  piety  of  a  young 
teacher  of  sixteen,  upon  the  ingenuous  heart  of 
her  pupil. 

The  employment  of  teaching  is  congenial  to 
happiness.  I  rejoice  to  be  enabled  to  add  my 
own  experience  to  the  truth  of  this  assertion. 
Some  of  the  most  delightful  years  of  my  life, 
were  devoted  to  the  instruction  of  young  ladies. 
And  how  could  it  be  otherwise,  when  the  pleasure 
of  witnessing  their  improvement,  was  mingled 
with  the  consciousness  of  improving  with  them  as 
a  fellow-learner,  when  every  laborious  depart- 
ment of  the  vocation  was  cheered  by  the  sweet- 
est sympathies,  by  demonstrations  of  attachment 
and  gratitude,  not  to  be  doubted  or  mistaken,  and 
which  have  continued  with  me  into  the  wane  of 
life.  How  often,  on  entering  the  school-room, 
and  seeing  fifteen  bright  faces  turned  toward  me 
with  the  smile  of  welcome,  have  I  silently  given 
thanks  for  my  blessed  employment,  and  with  that 
desire  of  setting  a  good  example,  which  those 
feel  who  urge  others  to  it,  repeated  in  my  heart, 
the  words  of  the  apostle,  "  for  their  sakes,  I  sanc- 
tify myself."  Truly  ungrateful  should  I  be,  not 
to  bear  glad  testimony  to  the  privilege  of  being 
associated  with  beings,  who,  in  the  blossom  and 
beauty  of  youth,  sought  knowledge  and  goodness 
in  preference  to  the  vanity  and  pride  of  life,  and 
who,  regarding  each  other  as  one  lovely  fajtnily3 


148  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

drew  me  also  within  the  circle  of  their  own  sister- 
ly fellowship.  When  I  recall  the  lineaments  of 
those  beautiful  and  buoyant  spirits,  who  touched 
as  with  the  wand  of  enchantment  five  downy- 
footed  years,  I  am  reminded  of  the  fabled  answer 
made  by  a  piece  of  turf,  to  him  who  questioned 
whence  its  odour  proceeded.  "  Roses  were  plant- 
ed on  my  soil.  Their  perfume  deliciously  pene- 
trated through  all  my  pores.  Otherwise,  I  had 
been  still  but  a  mass  of  clay." 

I  hope  the  time  will  speedily  come,  when  fe- 
males shall  have  charge  of  the  whole  education  of 
their  own  sex.  Especially,  should  those  establish- 
ments where  young  ladies  reside  as  in  a  home, 
be  under  feminine  superintendence.  Had  ladies 
heretofore  considered  it  as  it  really  is,  a  privilege 
to  teach,  they  would  have  claimed  such  stations 
as  their  right,  and  have  strenuously  prepared  them- 
selves, to  fill  them  with  fidelity,  and  honour.  "We 
shall  insist  on  this  point,"  says  Mrs.  Hale,  "that  no 
man  ought  to  name  himself  alone,  as  responsible 
for  the  education  of  young  ladies  at  a  boarding- 
school.  It  is  a  contumely  to  the  delicacy,  moral 
sentiment,  and  mental  ability  of  our  sex,  which 
every  true-hearted,  noble-spirited  woman  should 
resent.  It  is  an  infringement  of  our  privileges, 
and  they  are  neither  so  many  or  so  large,  that  we 
can  afford  to  lose  a  single  link  from  the  chain  of 
influence  and  respect,  without  a  murmur." 


SCHOOLS.  149 

Some  of  the  reasons,  why  females  should  qual- 
ify themselves  to  conduct  the  whole  education  of 
their  sex,  are  peculiar  to  our  country.  Here,  the 
roads  to  wealth  and  distinction  are  thrown  open 
equally  to  all.  Men  are  continually  solicited  by 
strong  motives,  to  gain  or  glory.  Competition  in 
some  form  or  other,  stimulates  every  individual 
of  every  rank.  So  restless,  almost  Sabbathless 
are  their  struggles,  that  foreigners  call  our  coun- 
try a  great  work-shop,  and  say  that  our  men  look 
care-worn  from  their  youth.  Moved  thus  by  the 
incentives  to  wealth  or  power,  will  the  most 
energetic,  and  the  best  endowed,  stoop  to  the 
drudgery  of  teaching  ignorant  children?  Will 
'  they  endure  it  sufficiently  long,  to  become  versed 
in  its  countless  details?  Will  the  mind  which  is 
ambitious  to  amass  millions,  be  content  with  its 
petty  gains?  Here  then,  is  a  sphere  for  the  pa- 
tience and  quietness  of  woman  to  enter,  and  win 
a  reward  which  earth  can  never  give. 

It  is  true,  that  here  and  there,  men  of  erudi- 
tion and  benevolence  may  devote  themselves  to 
the  work  of  education,  as  to  a  permanent  profes- 
sion. But  what  proportion  can  these  be  expected 
to  bear,  to  the  wants  of  our  rapidly  increasing 
and  broadly  emigrating  population?  Will  the 
pioneer  of  the  unplanted  wild,  or  the  colonist  on 
the  western  prairie,  gather  around  him  the  chil- 
dren of  an  infant  settlement,  and  instil  into  them 
13* 


150  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

the  simple  rudiments  of  science,  or  watch  the 
growth  of  the  moral  stamina  of  principle,  and  of 
character?  Will  the  man  of  enterprize  turn  from 
his  schemes,  the  rail-road,  the  canal,  or  the  land- 
speculation,  to  submit  to  the  tedious  processes,  or 
study  the  nameless  refinements  of  female  culture? 
The  wealthy  may  indeed  secure  the  aid  of  men 
of  talents,  in  the  education  of  their  daughters. 
But  these  will  be  only  exceptions.  To  borrow 
the  fine  simile  of  the  philosophick  Douglas,  they 
bear  no  more  comparison  to  the  great  mass  who 
need  instruction,  than  "the  surface  of  ocean 
which  is  stirred  by  the  breeze,  or  radiant  in  the 
sunbeam,  bears  to  the  depth  of  waters  that  lie 
dark  and  unmoved  beneath." 


RELIGIOUS    INSTRUCTION.  151 


LETTER    XIII. 

RELIGIOUS    INSTRUCTION. 

NOTWITHSTANDING  every  argument  that  can 
be  adduced, .  there  will  undoubtedly  be  many 
mothers,  who  decline  taking  an  active  part  in  the 
intellectual  culture  of  their  children.  Yet  let 
them  not,  with  equal  supineness,  venture  to  ne- 
glect their  religious  instruction.  For  if  "religion 
is  the  ritual  of  a  tender  and  lowly  mind,  looking 
through  the  beauty  and  majesty  of  Nature,  to  its 
God."  willing  to  believe  what  He  has  revealed, 
and  docile  to  do  what  He  has  commanded,  there 
surely  exists,  in  the  simplicity  of  childhood,  a 
preparation  for  its  spirit,  which  the  lapse  of  years 
may  impair. 

Can  it  be  necessary  to  repeat  the  precept,  that 
prayer  should  be  early  taught,  and  rendered  ha- 
bitual, at  stated  seasons,  especially  at  those  of  re- 
tiring to  rest,  and  waking  in  the  morning?  That 
it  should  be  felt  as  a  privilege,  and  not  as  a  task, 
will  require  judicious  maternal  attention.  Begin 
with  the  simplest  form  of  words,  solemnly  and 
affectionately  uttered.  As  by  little  and  little,  the 


152  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

infant  learns  to  lift  up  its  heart,  tell  it  that  it  has 
permission  to  bring  its  humble  wants,  thanks,  and 
sorrows,  in  its  own  lisping  language,  to  a  Father 
in  Heaven.  Sooner  than  perhaps  is  expected, 
may  the  guileless  spirit  be  led  to  intimate  com- 
munion with  the  hearer  of  prayer.  For  there 
are,  between  that  and  Him,  no  deep  descents  into 
actual  transgression;  no  long-continued  clouds  of 
alienated  feeling,  which  darken  His  countenance, 
and  crush  in  dust  the  heart  of  the  way-worn 
pilgrim. 

When  you  are  convinced  that  regular  seasons 
of  retirement  are  observed  as  a  duty,  or  regarded 
as  a  privilege,  let  your  next  lesson  be,  that  the 
softest  sigh,  the  voiceless  aspiration,  are  audible 
to  the  ear  of  Duty.  Wait  till  this  advance  in 
piety  has  been  secured,  and  then  reverence  the 
secresy  of  devotion  in  your  children.  If  you  are 
assured  that  they  are  prepared  for  that  precept  of 
the  Saviour,  "enter  into  thy  closet,  and  shut  thy 
door,"  allow  the  breath  of  the  soul  to  ascend  un- 
restrained to  Him  who  "giveth  the  Holy  Spirit 
to  them  who  ask  Him." 

Though  the  young  suppliants  may  most  en- 
joy seasons  of  solitary  intercourse  with  their 
Maker,  still  they  must  be  sedulously  taught  never 
to  be  ashamed  of  the  practice  of  devotion,  or  of 
its  appropriate  posture  of  humility ;  never  to  omit 
it,  at  rising,  or  retiring,  for  any  circumstance  what- 


RELIGIOUS    INSTRUCTION.  153 

ever.  "I  thought  my  aunt  was  a  pious  woman," 
said  a  very  little  child,  "but  now  she  cannot  be, 
for  I  see  she  does  not  kneel  down  and  pray  to 
God,  before  she  goes  to  sleep."  A  distinguished 
divine,  when  quite  young,  was  once  embarrassed, 
while  on  a  journey,  by  being  obliged  to  lodge  in 
the  same  room  with  a  stranger.  Naturally  timid, 
he  was  tempted  to  omit  his  nightly  prayers,  or  to 
disguise  their  performance.  But  he  reflected,  and 
conscience  prevailed.  "Should  not  those  who 
lodge  together,  pray  together?"  said  he,  as  he 
knelt  by  his  bed-side.  The  traveller,  though  not 
religious,  and  much  older  than  himself,  respected 
the  piety  of  the  boy,  and  sought  his  friendship. 

While  the  mother  earnestly  enforces  the  duty 
of  devotion,  at  stated  seasons,  she  must  not  re- 
strict it  to  those  seasons.  She  should  lead  her 
young  pupils,  step  by  step,  to  mingle  their  re- 
quests for  divine  guidance,  their  praises  for  con- 
tinued mercy,  not  only  with  every  unforeseen  ex- 
igence, but  with  the  common  circumstances  of 
their  daily  course.  Ejaculatory  prayer,  the  silent 
lifting  up  of  the  heart,  by  the  fireside,  at  the 
table,  in  the  midst  of  companions,  studies,  or  the 
occupations  of  industry,  may  make  the  whole  of 
life  ah  intercourse  with  its  Giver.  This  mode  of 
devotion  must  have  been  contemplated  by  the 
Apostle,  in  his  injunction,  "I  will,  that  men  pray 
every-where." 


154  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

There  is  a  sweet  and  simple  custom  prevalent 
in  Iceland,  which   marks    the    habitual  devotion 
of  its   inhabitants.     Whenever   they  leave   home, 
though  for  a  short  journey,  they  uncover   their 
heads,  and,  for  the  space  of  five  minutes,  silently 
implore  the  protection  and  favour  of  the  Almighty. 
Dr.  Henderson,  from  whom  this   fact  is  derived, 
and  who  observed  it  in  the  Icelanders  who  often 
attended  him  on  his  excursions,   also   remarked  it 
in  the  humblest  fishermen,  when   going  forth  to 
procure  food  for  their  families.     After  having  put 
out  upon  the  sea,  they  row  the  boat  into  quiet 
water,   at  a  short   distance  from  the  shore,   and, 
bowing  their  uncovered  heads,  solicit  the  blessing 
of  their  Father  in   Heaven.     Even   at  passing  a 
stream,  which  in  their   country  of  precipices   is 
often  an  operation  fraught  with  danger,  they  ob- 
serve   the    same    sacred    custom.     This    affecting 
habit  of  devotion  has  been  imputed  to  the  fact, 
that   from  their  isolated  situation,   and  modes  of 
life,  the    mother  is   almost  the  only  teacher,  and 
her  instructions  seem  to  have  become  incorpora- 
ted with  their  very  elements   of  being.    Let  us 
not    permit    our    Icelandic    sisters   to   go   beyond 
us  in  enforcing  the  duty  and  practice  of  .devo- 
tion. 

Next  to  the  exercise  of  prayer,  we  should  im- 
plant in  the  minds  of  our  children  a  reverence 
for  the  Sabbath.  An  ancient  writer  has  said  im- 


RELIGIOUS    INSTRUCTION.  155 

pressively,  that  "in  the  history  of  Creation,  we 
may  see  that  God  placed  wisdom  above  power, 
and  the  holy  rest  higher  than  both.  For  it  is 
not  said,  but  the  mass  and  matter  of  the  earth 
was  made  in  a  moment,  though  its  order  and  ar- 
rangement cost  the  labour  of  six  days:  but  the 
seventh  day,  in  which  the  Great  Architect  con- 
templated his  work,  is  blessed  above  all  others." 

Let  us  imitate  this  climax.  Whatever  may 
have  been  the  industry,  or  success  of  the  week, 
its  improvement  or  its  happiness,  let  us  feel  that 
its  crown  of  blessing  is  the  holy  rest  and  con- 
templation of  the  Sabbath.  This  solemn  and  glad 
consciousness  will  assist  us  to  present  it  to  our 
children  in  its  true  aspect.  We  should  make 
them  understand  that  God  claims  it  as  his  own; 
and  that  if  it  is  wrong  to  defraud  an  earthly 
friend,  it  must  be  a  sin  of  still  deeper  die  to  seek 
to  defraud  an  Almighty  Benefactor.  Teach  them 
that  all  his  commands  have  reference  to  their 
good,  but  that  this  has  obvious  connection  with 
their  spiritual  improvement,  and  ought  to  be 
strictly  regarded. 

One  of  the  simplest  rudiments  of  Sabbath  ob- 
servance, is  for  the  mother  to  sooth  her  little 
ones  into  a  placid  frame  of  mind.  We  cannot 
expect  from  them  that  delight  in  duty,  which  is 
the  reward  of  more  advanced  piety.  We  must 
wait  with  patience,  and  labour  in  hope,  not 


156  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

placing  our  standard  of  requisition  too  high,  lest 
the  young  aspirant  bow  as  under  a  yoke  of 
bondage. 

Mothers,  be  careful,  by  your  own  example,  to 
teach  that  rest  from  worldly  occupation  and  dis- 
course, which  the  consecrated  day  prescribes,  and 
by  your  heightened  and  serene  cheerfulness, 
awaken  a  desire  of  imitation.  Point  out,  in  the 
stillness  of  the  Sabbath  morn,  in  the  tint  of  the 
opening  flower,  or  in  the  snowy  drapery  of  win- 
ter, the  untiring  goodness  and  wisdom  of  the  Cre- 
ator. By  those  mercies,  which,  from  their  con- 
tinued presence,  we  are  too  apt  to  pass  unnoticed, 
lead  their  hearts  to  that  Giver,  who  forgets  not 
the  ungrateful.  Describe  with  what  delight  the 
gift  of  the  pure  air  would  fill  the  poor  prisoner, 
or  the  dweller  in  a  noxious  clime;  how  the 
power  of  walking  freely  over  the  fresh,  green 
turf  would  be  prized  by  the  cripple,  or  the  sick, 
long  chained  to  a  couch  of  suffering;  with  what 
rapture  the  sparkling  water  would  be  hailed  by 
the  wandering  Arab,  the  weary  caravan,  the  pant- 
ing carnel  in  the  sandy  desert.  To  enkindle  one 
spark  of  hallowed  gratitude,  or  pious  love,  in  the 
little  bosoms  that  beat  so  near  your  own,  is  a 
work  in  unison  with  the  spirit  of  the  day  of 
God. 

Be  careful  that  the  books,  which  your  children 
read,  are  congenial  to  this  holy  season.  Selections 


RELIGIOUS    INSTRUCTION.  157 

made  by  yourself  from  the  historical  parts  of  the 
Bible,  and  pictures  illustrating  them,  afford  a  plea- 
sant and  profitable  mode  of  instruction.  In  the 
choice  of  subjects,  or  in  your  explanation  of  them, 
you  can  keep  in  view  some  adaptation  to  individual 
character,  or  train  of  thought,  and  thus,  without 
seeming  to  do  it,  delicately  reprove  a  fault,  or 
cherish  a  drooping  virtue.  Committing  hymns  and 
sacred  precepts  to  memory,  is  also  an  excellent 
exercise.  How  often  do  the  aged  carry  to  the 
utmost  verge  of  life,  the  catechisms  and  sacred 
poetry  they  were  accustomed  to  learn  in  their  child- 
hood. When  Beza,  the  celebrated  reformer,  became 
old,  and  had  forgotten  even  the  countenances  and 
names  of  his  friends,  he  could  still  repeat  the  epis- 
tles of  St.  Paul,  which  he  had  committed  to 
memory  when  very  young,  and  principally  on  the 
Sabbath. 

Spend  as  much  time  as  you  can,  in  religious 
conversation  with  your  children.  Do  not  dismiss 
them  to  the  Sunday  school,  and  think  no  more 
about  them.  Is  it  not  a  sacred  pleasure  to  instruct 
them  on  this  blessed  day  ?  and  would  you  not  share 
in  it  ?  Some  unfortunate  ones  there  are,  for  whom 
no  religious  parent,  or  friend  at  home,  are  interested. 
To  such,  the  Sunday  school  teacher  is  an  invalua- 
ble treasure,  a  "  light  shining  in  a  dark  place,"  to 
guide  the  wanderer's  feet  in  the  way  of  peace. 
With  deep  gratitude  and  love,  should  those  bands 
14 


158  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

of  devoted  teachers  be  regarded,  who,  throughout 
the  cities  and  villages  of  our  land,  resign  the  sweet 
rest  of  the  Sabbath,  for  the  sake  of  the  souls  of 
others.  Doubtless  their  self-denial,  and  fidelity, 
will  be  remembered  at  the  judgment,  and  win  for 
them  a  fuller  portion  of  eternal  felicity. 

But  because  Sunday  school  teachers  are  willing 
to  "jeopard  themselves,  even  unto  death,"  is  the 
indolence  of  parents  to  be  excused?  If  they  are 
in  possession  of  religious  knowledge,  and  leisure, 
why  should  not  the  younger  members  of  their  families 
participate  in  this  wealth  ?  and  they  enjoy  the  high 
pleasure  of  imparting  it? 

Require  of  your  children  a  quiet  deportment, 
and  reverent  attention,  during  the  public  services 
of  the  church.  It  is  not  wise  to  permit  their  attend- 
ance there,  while  they  are  so  young  as  to  interrupt 
the  devotion  of  others,  for  the  benefit  they  may  be 
expected  to  receive,  will  scarcely  counterbalance 
the  inconvenience  sustained  by  older  worshippers. 
It  is  related  of  Joshua  Rowley  Gilpin,  that  his 
parents  had  so  thoroughly  impressed  him  with 
reverence  for  the  house  of  God,  that  at  his  first 
introduction  there,  though  at  a  very  early  age,  he 
testified  deep  awe,  and  ever  afterwards,  while  listen- 
ing to  ministrations  from  the  pulpit,  revealed  in 
his  deportment  the  most  unaffected  decorum  and 
piety. 

His  father  thus  describes  the  delightful  manner 


RELIGIOUS    INSTRUCTION.  159 

in  which  that  part  of  the  Sabbath  which  was  spent 
at  home,  passed  with  their  son,  whose  education 
was  conducted  by  his  parents :  "  Unrestrained  by 
the  presence  of  witnesses,  we  gave  on  that  sacred 
day,  an  unlimited  indulgence  to  our  affectionate 
and  devotional  feelings.  We  conversed  as  parts  of 
the  same  family;  we  congratulated  each  other,  as 
members  of  the  Christian  Church ;  we  rejoiced  over 
each  other,  as  heirs  of  the  same  glorious  promises. 
Some  interesting  passage  of  Scripture,  or  some 
choice  piece  of  divinity,  generally  furnished  the 
matter  of  our  discourse,  and  while  we  endeavoured 
to  obtain  a  clear  and  comprehensive  view  of  the 
subject  before  us,  a  divine  light  seemed  sometimes 
to  break  in  upon  us,  satisfying  our  doubts,  exalting 
our  conceptions,  and  cheering  our  hearts.  With 
one  consent,  we  have  then  laid  aside  our  book,  that 
we  might  uninterruptedly  admire  the  beauties  and 
enjoy  the  glories  of  the  opening  prospect.  While 
thus  solacing  ourselves  with  a  view  of  our  future 
enjoyments,  and  the  place  of  our  final  destination, 
we  have  solemnly  renewed  our  vows,  resolving  for 
the  £  joy  that  was  set  before  us,  to  endure  the  cross, 
despising  the  shame,'  in  humble  imitation  of  our 
adorable  Master.  In  such  a  frame  of  mind,  we 
found  it  possible  to  speak  of  probable  sufferings, 
and  painful  separations,  with  the  utmost  compo- 
sure. And  with  such  a  termination  of  our  course 
in  sight,  we  could  cheerfully  leave  all  the  casual- 


160  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

ties  of  that  course  to  the  Divine  disposal ;  fully 
persuaded,  that  whatever  evil  might  befal  us  by 
the  way,  an  abundant  compensation  would  be 
made  for  all,  on  our  arrival  at  home." 

It  seems  scarcely  necessary  to  remark,  that  our 
young  pupils  ought  not  to  be  initiated  into  contro- 
versial, or  metaphysical  subtleties.  Their  under- 
standings have  not  sufficient  strength  to  grasp  the 
disputes  that  divide  Christendom.  They  are  per- 
plexed by  distinctions  of  doctrine,  when  their 
feeble  comprehension  might  have  been  guided  out 
of  the  labyrinth,  by  the  simple  precept,  that 
"  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wis- 
dom." Their  religion  should  be  eminently  that 
of  the  heart,  a  love  of  their  Father  in  Heaven, 
a  love  of  all  whom  he  has  made,  an  obedience  to 
his  commands,  a  dread  of  his  displeasure,  a  con- 
tinual reference  to  him  for  aid,  renovation,  and 
forgiveness  through  the  Saviour,  and  a  conscious- 
ness that  every  deed,  however  secret,  is  open  to 
his  eye,  every  word,  every  motive,  to  be  brought 
into  judgment.  This  foundation  will  bear  a  broad 
superstructure,  when  years  expand  the  lineaments 
of  character,  and  time's  trials  teach  self-knowledge, 
humility,  and  reliance  on  omnipotent  strength. 

Perhaps  some  mother  exclaims,  "  she  who  thinks 
herself  fit  to  communicate  such  instruction,  ought 
to  have  much  knowledge  herself."  Certainly ;  and 
one  great  benefit  of  the  undertaking  is,  that  she 


RELIGIOUS    INSTRUCTION.  161 

is  thus  induced  to  study,  and  to  increase  in  the 
knowledge  of  divine  things. 

"But  how  are  we  to  acquire  this  knowledge? 
We  have  not  time  to  hear  all  who  speak  in  public, 
or  to  read  half  the  books  that  are  written." 

The  leisure  of  a  faithful  mother,  is  indeed  cir- 
cumscribed. When  she  is  unable  to  go  forth, 
as  she  might  desire,  and  seek  for  instruction,  let 
her  make  trial  of  the  injunction  of  the  Psalmist, 
to  "commune  with  her  own  heart,  and  in  her 
chamber,  and  be  still."  "  The  retiring  of  the  mind 
into  itself,"  said  a  man  of  wisdom,  "is  the  state 
most  susceptible  of  divine  impressions." 

To  study  the  scriptures,  to  solicit  the  aid  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  to  draw  forth  from  memory  the 
priceless  precepts  of  a  religious  education,  and 
reduce  them  to  practice,  are  more  congenial  to 
maternal  duty,  than  the  exciting  system  of  the 
ancient  Athenians,  who,  according  to  the  Apostle, 
"spent  their  time  in  nothing  else,  but  either  to 
tell,  or  to  hear  some  new  thing."  "Transplant 
thyself  into  some  enclosed  ground,"  said  an  an- 
cient writer,  "  for  it  is  hard  for  a  tree  that  stand- 
eth  by  the  way-side,  to  keep  its  fruit  until  it  be 
fully  ripe."  To  overload  a  field  with  seed,  how- 
ever good,  yet  neglect  the  process  that  incorpo- 
rates it  with  the  mould,  is  but  to  provide  food 
for  the  fowls  of  the  air.  This  must  emphatically 
be  the  case,  when  the  mistress  of  a  family  leaves 
14* 


162  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

imperative  duties  unperformed  at  home,  and  wan- 
ders frequently  abroad,  though  it  seem  to  be  in 
search  of  wisdom.  Her  thoughts,  if  she  is  con- 
scientious, will  so  hover  about  her  forsaken 
charge,  as  to  leave  no  fixedness  of  attention,  for 
the  discussions  of  the  speaker.  His  voice  may 
indeed  be  like  the  lovely  song  of  a  very  plea- 
sant instrument,  but  it  must  fall  on  a  partially 
deafened  ear.  In  spite  of  every  endeavour,  her 
heart  will  be  travelling  homeward  to  the  feeble 
babe,  the  uncontrouled  children,  or  the  lawless 
servants. 

A  mother,  in  rather  humble  life,  was  desirous 
to  attend  an  evening  meeting.  Her  husband,  who 
was  obliged  to  go  in  another  direction,  advised 
her  to  remain  at  home.  He  urged,  that-  the 
weather  was  cold,  and  there  was  no  one  to  leave 
with  the  babe,  and  two  other  little  ones,  except 
a  young,  indiscreet  girl,  whom  they  were  bring- 
ing up,  and  who  being  apt  to  fall  asleep  with 
the  infant  in  her  arms,  he  feared  it  might  fall 
into  the  fire  upon  the  hearth,  or  perhaps,  the 
house  be  consumed.  But  as  she  had  gone,  a 
night  or  two  before,  and  no  accident  had  hap- 
pened, she  said  she  thought  she  would  trust 
providence  again.  So  she  went,  yet  her  heart 
misgave  her.  As  she  opened  the  door  of  the 
lecture-room,  the  speaker  rising,  pronounced  his 
text: 


RELIGIOUS     INSTRUCTION.  163 

"With  whom  hast  thou  left  those  few  sheep 
in  the  wilderness?" 

The  force  of  his  elocution,  and  the  coincidence 
of  the  passage  with  her  own  rather  reproachful 
train  of  thought,  so  wrought  upon  her  feelings, 
that  in  a  short  time,  she  silently  left  her  seat,  and 
returned  home.  Afterwards  she  acknowledged, 
that  this  circumstance  had  aided  to  convince  her, 
how  essential  a  part  of  religion  it  was,  to  watch 
over  the  unfledged  birdlings  of  her  own  nest. 

Though  the  paths  of  instruction  are  preferable 
to-jthe  haunts  of  fashion  and  folly,  as  far  as  "light 
excelleth  darkness,"  yet  is  it  not  possible,  that 
there  may  be  such  a  thing  as  religious  dissipa- 
tion ?  If  so,  it  is  peculiarly  to  be  deprecated  in  a 
mother,  one  of  whose  first  obligations  is  to  "  show 
piety  at  home,"  and  whose  simple  presence,  even 
the  sound  of  her  protecting  voice  from  a  distant 
apartment,  is  often  far  more  essential  to  the  wel- 
fare of  the  little  kingdom  which  she  rules,  than 
she  herself  imagines. 

A  lady  once  asserted  that  she  had  heard  nine 
sermons,  or  lectures,  during  the  week,  adding  as  a 
proof  of  her  zeal  and  self-denial,  that  she  had  left 
some  of  her  family  sick,  in  order  to  attend 
them.  Now,  if  these  nine  discourses  embodied 
the  intellectual  strength  of  profound  and  educated 
men,  it  would  be  exceedingly  difficult  for  a  ma- 
tron, burdened  with  the  cares  peculiar  to  her  sta- 


164  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

tion,  so  to  "mark,  learn,  and  inwardly  digest"  this 
mass  of  knowledge,  as  to  receive  proportionate 
gain.  And  I  could  not  help  recollecting  the  noble 
lady  of  ancient  times,  who  had  determined  to  visit 
all  Palestine,  and  then  take  up  her  abode  in  Beth- 
lehem, that  she  might  make  Christ's  inn  her 
home,  and  die  where  he  was  born,  of  whom 
Fuller,  the  historian,  quaintly  remarks,  that  "  see- 
ing she  left  three  daughters,  and  her  poor  little 
infant  Foxotius  behind  her,  he  was  fain  to  think, 
for  his  own  part,  that  she  had  done  as  accepta- 
ble a  deed  to  God,  by  staying  to  rock  her  child 
in  the  cradle,  as  to  enter  Christ's  manger." 

I  would  not,  were  it  in  my  power,  say  aught 
to  diminish  the  ardour  of  my  sex,  to  keep  up 
with  the  spirit  of  this  advancing  age,  and  above 
all,  to  hold  in  the  highest  estimation  the  know- 
ledge of  things  divine.  Rather,  would  I  increase 
a  thousand-fold,  their  reverence  for  such  know- 
ledge, and  for  those  who  teach  it.  But  let  not 
the  mother  of  little  ones,  forget  that  her  para- 
mount duty  is  to  impart  to  them  what  she  has 
herself  learned,  and  proved,  and  held  fast,  as  an 
"anchor  to  the  soul."  Whatever  accession  she 
makes  to  her  own  spiritual  wealth,  let  her  sim- 
plify and  share  it  with  the  flock  over  whom 
the  Chief  Shepherd  hath  made  her  overseer.  Let 
none  of  her  manna-gatherings  be  in  the  spirit 
of  idle,  aimless  curiosity,  but  with  the  earnest 


RELIGIOUS    INSTRUCTION.  165 

intention  better  to  obey  the  command  of  dying 
love,  "Feed  my  lambs." 

How  quiet,  yet  efficient,  was  the  maternal  in- 
fluence of  Monica  over  Augustine,  as  it  has 
been  delineated  by  one  of  the  powerful  pens 
of  our  country,  which  has  also  mingled  with 
the  biography  many  collateral  traits  of  the  civil 
and  ecclesiastical  history  of  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries.  Truly  admirable  was  her  patience 
with  the  waywardness  of  her  son,  when  "her 
voice,  or  rather  the  voice  of  God  in  her,  he 
despised,  thinking  it  to  be  only  the  voice  of  a 
woman ;"  her  fidelity  in  admonishing  him  of  er- 
ror, and  warning  him  of  danger ;  her  persever- 
ance, which  drew  from  an  eminent  Christian  the 
assertion,  that  it  was  impossible  for  a  child  of 
such  prayers  to  perish ;  her  trust  in  God,  by 
which  the  "wormwood  of  her  anguish  was  al- 
ways sweetened  by  some  infusion  of  divine 
hope;"  and  her  rapturous  praise,  at  the  conver- 
sion of  the  object  of  her  fondest  care,  when  the 
"vine,  which  had  for  such  a  distance  crept 
along  on  the  surface,  was  about  suddenly  to 
shoot  up,  and  twine  around  the  tree  of  life." 
Would  that  the  example  of  this  ancient  saint 
were  more  frequently  imitated,  and  that  our 
children  more  fully  profited  by  the  efficacy  of 
maternal  prayers. 

It  was  a  high  suffrage,  once  accorded  to  the 


166  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

piety  of  Fenelon,  by  an  infidel,  who  exclaimed: 
"  let  me  get  out  of  his  house,  or  I  shall  be  a 
Christian."  May  the  beauty  of  holiness  so  rest 
upon  our  households,  that  every  dweller  there, 
as  well  as  every  guest,  may  both  love  and  adopt 
its  lineaments. 

Can  woman  ever  do  too  much  to  evince  her 
gratitude  to  the  religion  of  Christ?  Look  at  her 
situation  among  the  most  polished  heathen.  Trace 
the  depths  of  her  domestic  depression,  even  in 
the  proudest  days  of  Greece  and  Rome.  What 
has  she  been  under  the  Moslem?  Humbled  by 
polygamy,  entombed  in  the  harem,  denounced  as 
soulless.  Only  under  the  Gospel  dispensation  has 
she  been  accounted  an  equal,  the  happy  and 
cherished  partaker  of  an  immortal  hope. 

Even  amid  the  brightness  that  beamed  upon 
ancient  Zion,  her  lot  was  in  strong  shadow. 
Now  and  then  she  appears  with  the  timbrel  of 
the  prophetess ;  or  as  a  beautiful  gleaner  in  the 
fields  of  Boaz ;  or  as  a  mother,  giving  the  son 
of  her  prayers  to  the  temple-service.  But  these 
are  rather  exceptions  to  a  general  rule,  than  proofs 
that  she  was  an  equal  sharer  in  the  blessings  of 
the  Jewish  polity. 

How  afflicting  is  her  lot  among  uncivilized  na- 
tions, and  throughout  the  realms  of  paganism ! 
See  the  American  Indian,  binding  the  burden 
upon  his  weaker  companion,  and  walking  on 


RELIGIOUS    INSTRUCTION.  167 

pitiless,  in  his  unembarrassed  strength.  See  her 
among  the  Polynesian  islands,  the  slave  of  de- 
graded man ;  or  beneath  an  African  sun,  crouch- 
ing, to  receive  on  her  head  the  load  which  the 
camel  should  bear.  See  her  in  heathen  India, 
cheered  by  no  gleam  of  the  domestic  affections, 
or  household  charities. 

A  gentleman,  long  a  resident  in  the  east,  men- 
tions that  among  the  pilgrims  who  throng  to  the 
temple  of  Juggernaut,  was  a.  Hindoo  family, 
who  had  travelled  two  thousand  miles  on  foot. 
They  had  nearly  reached  the  end  of  their 
toils  and  journey,  when  the  mother  was  taken 
sick.  On  perceiving  that  she  was  unable  to 
travel,  the  husband  abandoned  her.  Creeping  a 
few  steps  at  a  time,  she  at  length  reached,  with 
her  babe,  a  neighbouring  village.  There  she  be- 
sought shelter,  but  in  vain.  A  storm  came  on, 
and  she  laid  herself  down,  in  her  deadly  sick- 
ness, under  a  tree.  There  she  was  found  in  the 
morning  by  the  benevolent  narrator,  drenched 
with  rain,  and  the  infant  clinging  to  her  breast. 
He  removed  her,  and  gave  her  medicine,  but  it 
was  too  late.  The  flame  of  life  was  expiring. 
He  besought  many  individuals  to  take  pity  on 
the  starving  child.  The  universal  reply  was, 
"No.  It  is  only  a  girl."  He  went  to  the  owner 
of  the  village,  a  man  of  wealth,  and  implored 
his  aid.  The  refusal  was  positive.  "Is  the 


168  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

mother  dead?  Let  the  child  die  too.  What  else 
should  it  do?  Have  you  not  said  it  was  a 
girl?"  So,  the  Christian  took  the  miserable  infant 
under  his  protection.  Having  procured  some 
milk,  he  mentioned  that  he  should  never  forget 
the  look  with  which  the  poor  famished  creature 
crawled  to  his  feet,  and  gazed  up  in  his  face,  as 
she  saw  the  food  approaching.  So  strongly  were 
his  compassions  moved,  that  he  determined  to 
take  her  with  him  to  his  own  land,  that  she 
might  receive  the  nurture  of  that  religion,  which 
moves  the  strong  to  respect  the  weak,  and  opens 
the  door  of  heaven  to  every  humble  and  trusting 
soul. 

Surely,  woman  is  surrounded  by  an  array  of 
[motives  of  unspeakable  strength,   to  be  an  advo- 
/cate  for  pure  religion,   a  teacher  of  its  precepts, 
/  an  exemplification  of  its  spirit.     The  slightest  in- 
novation of  its  principles,  she  is  bound  to  repel. 
The  faintest   smile  at   its   institutions,   she   must 
discountenance.     To   her,   emphatically,  may  the 
words  of  the  Jewish  lawgiver  be  addressed,  "it  is 
/  not  a  vain  thing ;  it  is  your  life.1" 

That  she  may  do  this   great  work  effectually, 

f  let  her   "  receive   the   truth,  in    the   love  of  it." 

Let  her  contemplate  with  affection  the  character 

/  of  her  Saviour,   and  earnestly  seek  more   entire 

/  conformity   to   that   religion,    through  which   she 

receives  such  innumerable  blessings.    Let  her  say 


RELIGIOUS    INSTRUCTION.  169 

with  more  firmness  than  did  the  ardent  disciple, 
"though  all  men  forsake  thee,  yet  will  not  I." 
Ever  should  she  assiduously  cherish  the  spirit,  so 
beautifully  ascribed  to  her  by  the  poet, 

"  Not  she,  with  serpent-kiss,  her  Saviour  stung ; 
Not  she,  denied  him  with  a  traitor-tongue  : 
She,  when  apostles  shrank,  could  brave  the  gloom, 
Last  at  the  Cross,  and  earliest  at  the  tomb." 


170  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 


LETTER    XIV. 

DUTY   TO   THE    COMMUNITY. 

WE  mothers,  best  discharge  our  duty  to  the  com- 
munity, by  training  up  those  who  shall  give  it 
strength  and  beauty.  Our  unwearied  labours 
should  coincide  with  the  aspirations  of  the  Psalm- 
ist, that  "  our  sons  may  be  as  plants  grown  up  in 
their  youth,  our  daughters  as  corner-stones,  pol- 
ished after  the  similitude  of  a  palace."  We  would 
not  wish  to  leave  to  society,  where  we  have  our- 
selves found  protection  and  solace,  a  bequest  that 
would  dishonour  our  memory. 

I  feel  peculiar  solicitude  with  regard  to  the 
manner  in  which  our  daughters  are  reared.  Being 
more  constantly  with  us,  and  more  perfectly  under 
our  controul,  than  sons,  they  are  emphatically 
our  representatives,  the  truest  tests  of  our  system, 
the  strongest  witnesses  to  another  generation,  of 
our  fidelity,  or  neglect. 

"  Unless  women,"  said  the  venerable  Fellenberg, 
"  are  brought  up  with  industrious  and  religious 
habits,  it  is  in  vain  that  we  educate  the  men : 
for  they  are  the  ones,  who  keep  the  character 


DUTY   TO   THE   COMMUNITY.  171 

Xr>f  men  in  its  proper  elevation."  Our  duty  to 
the  community,  which  must  be  discharged  by  the 
education  of  a  whole  race,  comprises  many  un- 
obtrusive, almost  invisible  points,  which,  in  detail, 
seem  trivial  or  desultory,  but  which  are  still  as 
important  as  the  rain-drop  to  the  cistern,  or  the 
rill  to  the  broad  stream. 

A  long  period  allotted  to  study,  a  thorough  im- 
plantation of  domestic  tastes,  and  a  vigilant  guard- 
ianship over  simplicity  of  character,  are  desirable 
for  the  daughters  of  a  republick.  That  it  is  wise 
to  give  the  greatest  possible  extent  to  the  season 
of  tutelage,  for  those  who  have  much  to  learn,  is 
a  self-evident  proposition.  If  they  are  to  teach 
others,  it  is  doubly  important ;  and  there  is  no 
country  on  earth,  where  so  many  females  are 
employed  in  teaching,  as  in  our  own.  Indeed, 
from  the  position  that  educated  women  here 
maintain,  it  might  not  be  difficult  to  establish  the 
point,  that  they  are  all  teachers,  all  forming  other 
beings  upon  the  model  of  their  own  example, 
however  unconscious  of  the  fact.  To  abridge  the 
education  of  the  educator,  is  to  stint  the  culture 
of  a  plant,  whose  "  leaves  are  for  the  healing  of 
the  nations." 

I  was  delighted  to  hear  a  young  lady  say,  at 
the  age  of  nineteen,  "  I  cannot  bear  to  think  yet 
of  leaving  school.  I  have  scarcely  begun  to 
learn."  With  propriety  might  she  express  this 


172  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

sentiment,  though  she  was  eminent  both  in  stu- 
dies and  accomplishments,  if  the  great  Michael 
Angelo  could  adopt  for  his  motto,  in  his  nine- 
tieth year.  "  ancora  imparo,"  —  "and  yet  I  am 
learning." 

It  has  unfortunately  been  too  much  the  custom 
in  our  country,  not  only  to  shorten  the  period 
allotted  to  the  education  of  our  sex,  but  to  fritter 
away  even  that  brief  period  in  contradictory  pur- 
suits and  pleasures.  Parents  have  blindly  lent  their 
influence  to  this  usage.  To  reform  it,  they  must 
oppose  the  tide  of  fashion,  and  of  opinion.  Let 
them  instruct  their  daughters  to  resist  the  prin- 
ciple of  conforming  in  any  respect  to  the  example 
of  those  around  them,  unless  it  is  rational  in  itself, 
and  correctly  applicable  to  them  as  individuals. 
A  proper  expenditure  for  one,  would  be  ruinous 
extravagance  in  another.  So,  if  some  indiscreet 
mothers  permit  their  young  daughters  to  waste 
in  elaborate  dress,  and  fashionable  parties,  the 
attention  which  should  be  devoted  to  study,  need 
their  example  be  quoted  as  a  precedent  1  To  do 
as  others  do,  which  is  the  rule  of  the  unthinking, 
is  often  to  copy  bad  taste,  and  erring  judgment. 
We  use  more  discrimination  in  points  of  trifling 
import.  We  pause  and  compare  patterns,  ere  we 
purchase  a  garment  which  perchance  lasts  but  for 
a  single  season.  Why  should  we  adopt  with  little 
inquiry,  or  on  the  strength  of  doubtful  precedent, 


DUTY   TO   THE    COMMUNITY.  173 

a  habit,  which  may  stamp  the  character  of  our 
children  forever? 

The  youngest  girl  should  be  taught,  when  cir- 
cumstances require,  not  to  fear  to  differ  from  her 
companions,  either  in  costume,  manners,  or  opin- 
ion. Singularity,  for  its  own  sake,  and  every 
approach  to  eccentricity,  should  be  deprecated  and 
discouraged.  Even  necessary  variations  from  those 
around,  must  be  managed  with  delicacy,  so  as  not 
to  wound  feeling,  or  exasperate  prejudice.  But 
she  who  dare  not  be  independent,  when  reason 
or  duty  dictate,  will  be  in  danger  of  forfeiting 
decision  of  character,  perhaps,  integrity  of  prin- 
ciple. 

Simple  attire,  and  simple  manners,  are  the  nat- 
ural ornaments  of  those  who  are  obtaining  their 
school-education.  They  have  the  beauty  of  fit- 
ness, and  the  policy  of  leaving  the  mind  free,  for 
its  precious  pursuits.  Love  of  display,  every  step 
towards  affectation,  are  destructive  of  the  charms 
of  that  sweet  season  of  life.  Ceremonious  visit- 
ing, where  showy  apparel,  and  late  hours  pre- 
vail, must  be  avoided.  I  feel  painful  sympa- 
thy for  those  mothers,  who  expose  their  young 
daughters  to  such  excitements,  yet  expect  them 
to  return,  unimpaired  and  docile,  to  the  re- 
straints of  school-discipline.  "  Those  who  forsake 
useful  studies,"  said  an  eminent  philosopher,  "  for 
useless  speculations,  are  like  the  Olympic  game- 
15* 


174  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

sters,  who  abstained  from  necessary  labours,  that 
they  might  be  fit  for  such  as  were  not  so." 

Shall  I  allude  to  the  want  of  expediency,  in 
exhibiting  very  young  ladies  in  mixed  society? 
Their  faces  become  familiar  to  the  public  eye. 
The  shrinking  delicacy  of  their  privileged  period 
of  life,  escapes.  The  dews  of  the  morning  are 
too  suddenly  exhaled.  They  get  to  be  accounted 
old,  ere  they  are  mature ;  more  is  expected  of 
them,  than  their  unformed  characters  can  yield ; 
and  if  their  discretion  does  not  surpass  their 
years,  they  may  encounter  severe  criticism,  per- 
haps, calumny.  When  they  should  be  just  emerg- 
ing, as  a  fresh-opened  blossom,  they  are  hack- 
neyed to  the  common  gaze,  as  the  last  year's 
Souvenir,  which  by  courtesy  or  sufferance,  main- 
tains a  place  on  the  centre-table,  though  its  value 
has  deteriorated.  Is  not  the  alternative  either  a 
premature  marriage,  or  an  obsolete  continuance  in 
the  arena  of  fashion  ?  with  a  somewhat  mortifying 
adherence  to  the  fortunes  of  new  votaries,  as  grade 
after  grade,  they  assert  their  claims  to  fleeting 
admiration,  or  vapid  flattery  ? 

How  much  more  faithfully  does  the  mother 
perform  her  duty,  who  brings  forth  to  society,  no 
crude,  or  superficial  semblance  of  goodness,  but 
the  well-ripened  fruit  of  thorough,  prayerful  cul- 
ture. Her  daughter,  associated  with  herself,  in 
domestic  cares,  at  the  same  time  that  she  gath- 


DUTY   TO   THE    COMMUNITY.  175 

ered  the  wealth  of  intellectual  knowledge,  is  now 
qualified  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  sphere 
which  she  embellishes.  Adorned  with  that  sim- 
plicity which  attracts  every  eye,  when  combined 
with  good-breeding,  and  a  right  education,  she 
is  arrayed  in  a  better  panoply  than  the  armour 
of  Semiramis,  or  the  wit  and  beauty  of  Cleopatra, 
for  whom  the  Roman  lost  a  world. 

Simplicity  of  language,  as  well  as  of  garb  and 
manner,  is  a  powerful  ingredient  in  that  art 
of  pleasing,  which  the  young  and  lovely  of  our 
sex  are  supposed  to  study.  The  conversation  of 
children,  is  rich  in  this  charm.  Books  intended 
for  their  instruction  or  amusement,  should  con- 
sult this  idiom.  Ought  not  females  to  excel  in 
the  composition  of  elementary  works  for  the 
juvenile  intellect,  associated  as  they  are  with  it, 
in  its  earliest  and  least-constrained  developements  ? 
The  talented  and  learned  man  is  prone  to  find 
himself  embarrassed  by  such  a  labour.  The  more 
profound  his  researches  in  science,  and  the  know- 
ledge of  the  world,  the  farther  must  he  retrace 
his  steps,  to  reach  the  level  of  infantine  simpli- 
city. Possibly,  he  might  ascend  among  the  stars, 
and  feel  at  home,  but  to  search  for  honey-dew 
in  the  bells  of  flowers,  and  among  the  mosses, 
needs  the  beak  of  the  humming-bird,  or  the  wing 
of  the  butterfly.  He  must  recall,  with  painful  effort, 
the  far-off  days,  when  he  "thought  as  a  child, 


176  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

spake  as  a  child,  understood  as  a  child."  For- 
tunate will  he  be,  if  the  "strong  meat"  on  which 
he  has  so  long  fed,  have  not  wholly  indisposed 
him  to  relish  the  "milk  of  babes."  If  he  is  able 
to  arrest  the  thoughts  and  feelings,  which  charmed 
him  when  life  was  new,  he  will  still  be  obliged 
to  transfuse  them  into  the  dialect  of  childhood. 
He  must  write  in  a  foreign  idiom,  where,  not 
to  be  ungrammatical  is  praise,  and  not  utterly 
to  fail,  is  victory.  Perhaps,  in  the  attempt,  he 
may  be  induced  to  exclaim,  with  the  conscious 
majesty  of  Milton,  "my  mother  bore  me,  a 
speaker  of  that,  which  God  made  my  own,  and 
not  a  translator." 

It  has  been  somewhere  asserted,  that  he  who 
would  agreeably  instruct  children,  must  become 
the  pupil  of  children.  They  are  not,  indeed, 
qualified  to  act  as  guides,  among  the  steep  cliffs 
of  knowledge,  which  they  have  never  traversed. 
But  they  are  most  skilful  conductors  to  the 
green  plats  of  turf,  and  the  wild  flowers  that 
encircle  its  base.  They  best  know  where  the 
violets  and  king-cups  grow,  which  they  have 
themselves  gathered,  and  where  the  clear  brook 
makes  mirthful  music,  in  its  pebbly  bed. 

Have  you  ever  listened  to  a  little  girl,  telling 
a  story  to  her  younger  brother  or  sister?  What 
adaptation  of  subject,  circumstance,  and  epithet. 
If  she  repeats  what  she  has  heard,  how  natur- 


DUTY   TO   THE    COMMUNITY.  177 

ally  does  she  simplify  every  train  of  thought. 
If  she  enters  the  region  of  invention,  how  wisely 
does  she  keep  in  view  the  taste  and  comprehen- 
sion of  her  auditor.  Ah,  how  powerful  is  that 
simplicity,  which  so  readily  unlocks,  and  rules 
the  heart,  and  which  "seeming  to  have  nothing, 
possesseth  all  things." 

Those  who  are  conversant  with  little  children, 
are  not  always  disposed  sufficiently  to  estimate 
them,  or  to  allow  them  the  high  rank  which 
they  really  hold  in  the  scale  of  being.  In  re- 
garding the  acorn,  we  forget  that  it  comprises 
within  its  tiny  round,  the  future  oak.  It  is  this 
want  of  prospective  wisdom,  which  occasions  ig- 
norant persons  often  to  despise  childhood,  and 
renders  some  portions  of  its  early  training,  sea- 
sons of  bitter  bondage.  "  Knowledge  is  an  im- 
pression of  pleasure"  said  Lord  Bacon.  They 
who  impart  it  to  the  young,  ought  not  to  inter- 
fere with  its  original  nature,  or  divide  the  toil 
from  the  reward.  Educated  females,  ought  espe- 
cially to  keep  bright  the  links  between  knowledge 
and  happiness.  This  is  one  mode  of  evincing 
gratitude  to  the  age  in  which  they  live,  for  the 
generosity  with  which  it  has  renounced  those 
prejudices,  which  in  past  times  circumscribed  the 
intellectual  culture  of  their  sex. 

May  I  be  excused  for  repeatedly  urging  them, 
to  convince  the  community  that  it  has  lost  no- 


178  LETTJERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

thing  by  this  liberality?  Let  not  the  other  sex 
be  authorized  in  complaining,  that  the  firesides 
of  their  fathers  were  better  regulated  than  their 
own.  Give  them  no  chance  to  throw  odium 
upon  knowledge,  from  the  faults  of  its  allies  and 
disciples.  Rather  let  them  see,  that  by  a  partici- 
pation in  the  blessings  of  education,  you  are  made 
better  in  every  domestic  department,  in  every  rela- 
tive duty,  more  ardent  in  every  hallowed  effort 
of  benevolence  and  piety. 

I  cannot  believe  that  the  distaste  for  household 
industry,  which  some  young  ladies  evince,  is  the 
necessary  effect  of  a  more  expanded  system  of 
education.  Is  it  not  rather  the  abuse  of  that  sys- 
tem? Or  may  it  not  radically  be  the  fault  of 
the  mother,  in  neglecting  to  mingle  day  by  day 
domestic  knowledge  with  intellectual  culture?  in 
forgetting  that  the  warp  needs  a  woof,  ere  the 
rich  tapestry  can  be  perfect?  I  am  not  prepared 
to  assert  that  our  daughters  have  too  much  learn- 
ing, though  I  may  be  compelled  to  concede  that 
it  is  not  always  well  balanced,  or  judiciously 
used. 

Education  is  not  indeed  confined  to  any  one 
point  of  our  existence,  yet  it  assumes  peculiar 
importance  at  that  period  when  the  mind  is  most 
ductile  to  every  impression.  Just  at  the  dawn  of 
that  time,  we  see  the  mother  watching  for  the 
first  faint  tinge  of  intellect,  "more  than  they  who 


DUTY   TO   THE    COMMUNITY.  179 

watch  for  the  morning."  At  her  feet  a  whole 
generation  sit,  as  pupils.  Let  her  learn  her  own 
value',  as  the  'first  educator,  that,  in  proportion  to 
the  measure  of  her  influence,  she  may  acquit  her- 
self of  her  immense  responsibilities. 

Her  debt  to  the  community  must  be  paid 
through  her  children,  or  through  others  whom 
she  may  rear  up  to  dignify  and  adorn  it.  Aris- 
totle said,  "the  fate  of  empires  depended  on  edu- 
cation." But  that  in  woman  dwelt  any  particle 
of  that  conservative  power,  escaped  the  scrutiniz- 
ing eye  of  the  philosopher  of  Greece.  The  far- 
sighted  statesmen  of  our  own  times  have  disco- 
vered it. 

A  Prussian  legislator,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century,  promulgated  the  principle,  that 
"to  the  safety  and  regeneration  of  a  people,  a 
correct  state  of  religious  opinion  and  practice  was 
essential,  which  could  only  be  effected  by  proper 
attention  to  the  early  nurture  of  the  mind."  He 
foresaw  the  influence  of  the  training  of  infancy 
upon  the  welfare  of  a  nation. 

Let  our  country  go  still  further,  and  recognize 
in  the  nursery,  and  at  the  fireside,  that  hallowed 
agency,  which,  more  than  the  pomp  of  armies, 
shall  guard  her  welfare,  and  preserve  her  liberty. 
Trying,  as  she  is,  in  her  own  isolated  sphere,  the 
mighty  experiment,  whether  a  Republic  can  ever 
be  permanent;  standing  in  need,  as  she  does,  of 


180  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

all  the  checks  which  she  can  command  to  curb 
faction,  cupidity,  and  reckless  competition ;  rich 
in  resources,  and  therefore  in  danger  from  her 
own  power ;  in  danger  from  the  very  excess  of 
her  own  happiness,  from  that  knowledge  which 
is  the  birth-right  of  her  people,  unless  there  go 
forth  with  it  a  moral  purity,  guarding  the  un- 
sheathed weapon ;  let  this  our  dear  country  not 
slight  the  humblest  instrument  that  may  advance 
her  safety,  nor  forget  that  the  mother,  kneeling 
by  the  cradle-bed,  hath  her  hand  upon  the  ark  of 
a  nation. 


READING    AND   THINKING.  181 


LETTER    XV. 

READING    AND     THINKING. 

THIS  is  emphatically  the  age  of  book-making, 
and  miscellaneous  reading.  Profound  thought  is 
becoming  somewhat  obsolete.  The  rapidity  with 
which  space  is  traversed,  and  wealth  accumula- 
ted, the  many  exciting  objects  which  arrest  at- 
tention in  our  new,  and  wide  country,  indispose 
the  mind  to  the  old  habits  of  patient  investiga- 
tion, and  solitary  study. 

That  class  of  books,  which  enforce  meditation, 
hence  acquire  additional  value.  They  operate  as 
an  equipoise,  or  a  sedative  to  the  too  excited 
intellect.  In  proportion  to  the  depth  of  thought, 
which  they  require,  is  their  healthful  action,  by 
calling  home  the  mind,  which  is  in  danger  of 
becoming  discursive  and  desultory. 

Among  the  evils  of  a  distaste  for  reading,  are 
the  worldly  and  common  trains  of  thought,  which 
usurp  dominion  over  us.  Those  every-day  em- 
ployments, which  the  hands  might  discharge,  and 
leave  the  mind  in  some  measure  at  liberty,  cast 
off  the  yoke  of  vassalage,  and  seat  themselves  on 
16 


182  LETTERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

the  throne.  They  take  us  captive,  and  cover  us 
with  dust.  Then  the  jar  of  life's  machinery 
deafens  us,  and  our  ear  becomes  untuned  to  the 
"deep-inwoven  melodies"  of  contemplation. 

Subjects  of  discourse  are  prone  to  become 
trifling  or  personal,  unless  elevated  and  replen- 
ished from  the  world  of  books.  Such  a  result 
would  be  hazardous  to  our  sex,  who  are  pro- 
verbially gregarious  and  sociable.  Mothers  should 
guard  against  it,  for  their  temptations  are  great, 
to  make  the  cares  and  mysteries  of  housekeeping 
the  too  general  theme  of  conversation,  till  egotism 
or  selfishness,  disguised  in  amiable  forms,  steal 
over  them  unawares. 

Though  books  are  invaluable  adjuncts  both  to 
our  respectability  and  comfort,  yet  unless  we  se- 
lect those  which  suggest  profitable  subjects  for 
thought  or  conversation,  it  might  be  better  for 
many  of  us,  if  we  read  less.  The  numerous 
periodical  publications  of  the  day,  act  as  a 
stimulant  to  the  mental  appetite,  provoking  it 
beyond  its  capacity  of  digestion.  "  Nothing,"  says 
Dugald  Stewart,  "has  such  a  tendency  to  weaken  s 
not  only  the  powers  of  invention,  but  the  intel- 
lectual powers  in  general,  as  extensive  reading, 
without  reflection.  Mere  reading  books,  oppresses, 
enfeebles,  and  is,  with  many,  a  substitute  for 
thinking." 

That  we  read  too  much,  and  reflect  too  little, 


READING    AND   THINKING.  183 

will  scarcely  be  doubted.  The  flood  of  desul- 
tory literature  sweeps  on  like  a  deluge,  and  the 
mind,  like  the  bird  of  Noah,  spreads  a  weary 
wing  over  the  shoreless  ocean,  yet  finds  no  rest- 
ing-place. The  disposition  to  seek  out  the  "chief 
seats  at  synagogues,  and  the  uppermost  rooms  at 
feasts,"  which  flourishes  under  our  free  govern- 
ment, leads  some  to  become  authors,  and  teach- 
ers, who  have  need  to  learn. 

It  would  be  well  if  more  attention  were  be- 
stowed by  parents,  on  the  character  of  books 
which  are  put  into  the  hands  of  children.  Even 
their  style  of  execution,  the  character  of  the  type, 
paper  and  embellishments,  are  important ;  for  the 
taste  is  earlier  formed,  than  we  are  apt  to  ima- 
gine. As  the  education  of  the  eye  is  among 
the  first  efforts  of  instruction,  it  is  a  pity  to  vi- 
tiate it  by  evil  models.  A  fair  book  is  a  beau- 
tiful object  to  a  child,  and  will  be  more  care- 
fully preserved,  and  generally  more  attentively 
perused,  than  if  its  exterior  were  repulsive. 

Parents  should  always  inform  themselves  what 
books  their  children  are  reading.  They  should, 
if  possible,  first  peruse  them,  and  see  whether 
they  are  calculated  to  impart  wholesome  nutri- 
ment, or  stupifying  anodyne,  or  deadly  aconite. 
We  cannot  take  it  for  granted,  that  because  they 
have  a  book  in  their  hand,  their  souls  are  safe. 
I  was  acquainted  with  a  father  and  mother,  who 


184  LETTERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

carefully  perused  every  book  which  was  to  be 
entrusted  to  their  children,  and  marked  with  the 
scrupulousness  of  refined  and  religious  taste,  such 
parts  as  they  considered  either  injurious,  or  in- 
apposite ;  and  so  perfect  were  the  habits  of  obe- 
dience which  they  had  enforced,  that  the  pen- 
cilled passages  were  left  unread. 

The  ambition  to  have  children  read  at  a  very 
early  age,  seems  ill-placed.  Apart  from  any  ill 
effect  of  infantine  application  upon  health,  is  not 
the  attainment  rather  the  sound  of  words,  than 
the  reception  of  ideas'? 

"My  daughter  could  read  as  well  at  three 
years  old  as  she  does  now,"  says  some  fond 
mother,  trespassing  a  little  upon  that  province  of 
boasting,  from  which  the  "very  chiefest  of  the 
apostles"  has  excluded  us.  Had  the  child  been 
gifted  with  the  wisdom  of  the  stripling  David,  it 
would  have  objected  to  be  thus  girded  with  the 
heavy  armour  of  a  veteran.  What  can  be  the 
motive  for  thrusting  weapons  into  a  hand  which 
is  too  weak  to  wield  them?  What  is  the  use  of 
repeating  words  which  the  understanding  cannot 
comprehend?  Is  it  even  safe,  to  force  an  imma- 
ture intellect  into  unnatural  prominence? 

I  once  admired  precocity,  and  viewed  it  as  the 
breath  of  Deity,  quickening  to  ripe  and  rare  ex- 
cellence. But  I  have  since  learned  to  fear  it. 
Minds,  which  in  childhood  distanced  their  cotem- 


READING    AND   THINKING.  185 

poraries,  so  often  cease  to  advance  in  the  same 
ratio,  become  restive,  inert,  or  apparently  deteri- 
orated, that  I  cannot  but  regard  with  more  true 
satisfaction,  a  fabric  built  up  slowly  and  solidly. 

"I  left  my  boy  at  his  books,"  says  the  parent, 
with  a  self-complacent  smile.  Now,  though  it  is 
far  better  to  read  than  to  do  mischief,  we  cannot 
always  be  certain  that  reading  is  a  defence  from 
every  danger.  A  boy,  if  idle,  may  choose  a  book 
as  a  refuge  from  incumbent  industry;  or,  if  ill- 
disposed,  may  select  an  improper  one ;  or,  if 
thoughtless,  may  read  the  best  volume  without 
remembrance  or  improvement.  So,  though  a  taste 
for  reading  is  an  indication  of  mental  health,  and 
a  claim  on  gratitude,  yet  let  no  mother  feel  per- 
fectly at  ease  about  her  children,  simply  because 
they  read,  unless  she  knows  the  character  of  the 
books  that  engage  their  attention,  and  what  use 
is  made  of  the  knowledge  they  impart. 

"I  shall  never  feel  satisfied,"  says  another  pa- 
rent, "till  my  son  acquires  a  love  of  reading." 
Study  the  impulse  of  his  mind.  Perhaps  his 
tools  are  his  books.  The  Roman  might  have 
been  accounted  idle,  while  he  traversed  the  shore 
to  collect  the  wave-worn  fragments  of  the  broken 
ship  of  Carthage:  yet  thence  arose  the  navy  of 
Rome.  Noah  might  have  been  accounted  vision- 
ary, while  he  built  the  ark,  amid  "the  contradic- 
tion of  sinners,"  but  under  the  impulse  of  heaven* 
16* 


186  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

We  know  that  Newton  was  misunderstood  while 
he  pondered  the  frail  orb  of  the  soap-bubble ;  and 
Fulton  ridiculed  while  he  propelled  that  first  ad- 
venturous vessel,  whose  countless  offspring  were 
soon  to  mock  the  winds,  and  tread  the  waves 
with  their  feet  of  fire. 

Count  not  the  child  an  idler,  who  studies  the 
Book  of  Nature,  or  invigorates  by  active  exercise 
the  wonderful  mechanism  of  the  body.  Yet  I 
would  not  speak  lightly  of  the  love  of  reading. 
Oh  no!  This  cannot  be  done  by  those  who 
reverence  knowledge.  I  simply  assert  that  Na- 
ture exhibits  a  diversity  of  operations.  The  va- 
rious trades  and  professions  must  be  filled.  If  all 
were  sedentary  men,  who  would  compel  the  earth 
to  yield  her  increase?  or  preside  at  the  forge  of 
the  artificer?  or  speed  the  shuttle  of  the  artizan? 
or  spread  the  sail  that  bears  to  remotest  regions 
subsistence  and  wealth? 

The  use  and  ingenuity  of  the  hands  should  be 
encouraged  in  children.  Neither  should  their 
ruling  tastes  be  too  much  counteracted  in  select- 
ing their  business  for  life.  The  due  admixture 
and  welfare  of  different  trades  and  professions  in 
the  body  politic,  is  like  the  fine  economy  of  the 
frame.  "So  that  the  eye  cannot  say  to  the  hand, 
nor  again  the  hand  to  the  feet,  I  have  no  need 
of  you."  It  is  becoming  but  too  common  to  de- 
press mechanics  and  agriculturists,  the  very  sinews 


READING   AND   THINKING.  187 

and  life-blood  of  the  land,  and  to  uplift  a  sort  of 
speculating  indolence,  which  in  the  end  may 
make  the  drones  disproportionate  to  the  honey  in 
our  national  hive. 

Yet  whatever  mental  tendency  our  children 
may  reveal,  or  to  whatever  employment  they  are 
destined,  let  us  teach  them  the  art  of  thinking. 
Let  us  prize  the  slightest  fragment  of  thought, 
which  in  broken  whispers  they  submit  to  our  ear. 
While  we  require  their  opinion  of  the  sentiments 
and  language  of  authors,  the  traits  of  character 
which  they  perceive  around,  and  the  trains  of 
thought  which  they  find  most  salutary  or  agreea- 
ble, let  us  gently  but  faithfully  regulate  a  dazzled 
imagination,  or  a  defective  judgment.  It  has 
been  said  of  one  of  our  distinguished  divines, 
that  his  mind  in  childhood  received  impulse  and 
colouring  from  a  pious  mother,  who  taught  him 
how  to  think.  Though  she  was  early  removed, 
he  imbibed  from  her  tuition  that  love  of  letters, 
that  taste  for  original  and  independent  research, 
which  impelled  him  to  conquer  all  the  hardships 
of  restricted  circumstances,  and  obtain  the  benefits 
and  honours  of  classick  education. 

Mothers  should  never  remit  their  exertions,  until 
by  teaching  their  children  to  think,  they  familiar- 
ize them  with  the  power  and  use  of  their  own 
minds.  Especially  let  them  not  "despise  the  day 
of  small  tilings,"  nor  despair,  if  the  effect  of  their 


188  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

arduous  labour  is  not  immediately  or  distinctly 
visible.  A  friend  of  the  great  Michael  Angelo 
saw  him  one  day  at  work  upon  a  statue.  Long 
afterward  he  called,  and  it  was  yet  unfinished. 

"Have  you  been  idle?" 

"  Ah,  no.  I  have  retouched  here,  and  polished 
there.  I  have  softened  this  feature,  and  brought 
that  muscle  forth  in  bolder  relief.  I  have  given 
more  expression  to  the  lip,  more  grace  and  ener- 
gy to  the  form." 

"Still  these  are  but  trifles." 

"It  may  be  so.  But  trifles  make  perfection, 
though  perfection  itself  is  no  trifle." 

The  sculptor  upon  his  dead  marble,  ought  not 
to  surpass  in  patience,  us,  who  fashion  the  living 
image,  and  whose  work  is  upon  the  "  fleshly  ta- 
bles of  the  heart."  Can  we  keep  too  strongly  in 
view,  the  imperishable  nature,  the  priceless  value 
of  those  for  whom  we  toil  1  In  every  child,  there 
is  an  endless  history.  Compare  the  annals  of  the 
most  boasted  nation,  with  the  story  of  one  unend- 
ing existence.  Has  not  our  Saviour  already 
shown  the  result,  in  his  parallel  between  the  gain 
of  the  whole  world,  and  the  loss  of  one  soul? 
Assyria  stretched  out  its  colossal  limbs,  and  sank 
ignobly,  like  the  vaunting  champion  on  the 
plains  of  Elah.  Egypt  came  up  proudly,  with 
temple,  and  labyrinth,  and  pyramid,  but  fell 
down  manacled  at  the  feet  of  the  Turk.  Greece, 


READING    AND   THINKING.  189 

so  long  the  light  of  the  world,  deserted  by  poet 
and  philosopher,  fled,  pale  as  her  own  sculpture, 
from  the  same  brutal  foe.  Rome  thundered,  and 
fell.  She  struggled  indeed,  and  was  centuries  in 
dying.  But  is  she  not  dead?  Can  the  mummy 
in  the  Vatican,  from  its  gilded  sarcophagus,  be 
indeed  that  Rome  before  whom  the  world  trem- 
bled? 

The  story  of  these  empires  fills  many  pages. 
The  little  child  reads  them,  and  is  wearied.  But 
when  their  ancient  features  shall  have  faded  from 
the  map  of  nations,  and  the  tomes  that  recorded 
their  triumphs  and  their  fate,  blacken  in  the  last 
flame,  where  shall  be  the  soul  of  that  little  child1? 
Mother !  where  ? 

Will  it  not,  then,  have  but  just  begun  its  eternal 
duration?  Will  not  its  history  be  studied  by 
archangels  ?  Proud  Philosophy  perchance  view- 
ed it  as  a  noteless  thing,  an  atom.  Doth  God, 
the  father  of  the  Spirit,  thus  regard  it? 

Mothers,  of  the  four  millions  of  children  who 
are  yet  to  be  educated  in  this  Western  World, 
to  whom  our  country  looks,  as  her  defence  and 
glory,  Mothers,  of  four  millions  of  immortal  be- 
ings, have  you  any  time  to  lose?  any  right  to 
loiter  on  your  great  work? 


190  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 


LETTER   XVI. 

EXAMPLE. 

Do  1  hear  some  mother  say,  "if  we  do  all  that 
is  proposed  for  our  children,  we  shall  have  no 
time  to  do  any  thing  for  ourselves.  We  must 
certainly  give  up  all  hope  of  mental  proficiency. 
We  cannot  attempt  to  cherish  intellectual  tastes, 
or  to  maintain  an  acquaintance  with  the  litera- 
ture of  the  day." 

I  have  heretofore  assumed  that  a  mother,  who 
attends  to  the  education  of  her  children,  neces- 
sarily advances  with  them.  But  she  may  also 
secure  the  means  of  a  more  than  collateral  im- 
provement. By  a  correct  system  of  management, 
she  may  avoid  falling  behind  the  standard  of  the 
times. 

To  do  this,  she  must  understand  more  than  the 
mere  theory  of  housekeeping.  She  must  have 
such  knowledge  of  its  practical  parts,  that  every 
wheel  may  be  kept  in  motion.  Disorder  in  the 
kitchen  department  re-acts  directly  upon  the  par- 
lour; and  discomfort  in  the  family,  deprives  the 
head  of  it  of  all  power  of  pleasant,  or  profitable 


EXAMPLE.  191 

mental  application.  It  seems  necessary  to  be 
sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  duties  which  we 
demand  of  others,  to  know  whether  they  are  pro- 
perly discharged,  and  when  the  wearied  labourer 
requires  repose.  Novices  in  housekeeping,  often 
err  in  these  matters.  They  are  deceived  by 
specious  appearances,  without  knowing  how  their 
domestics  spend  their  time ;  or  they  impose  toil 
at  the  proper  seasons  of  rest. 

"I  have  an  excellent  cook,"  said  a  young 
housekeeper.  "  But  I  think  I  shall  have  to  dis- 
miss her,  she  is  so  cross.  I  only  wanted  her  to 
make  me  some  blanc-mange  and  custards  yester- 
day, and  just  because  her  dinner-dishes  were  out 
of  the  way,  and  her  kitchen  put  up  nice  for  the 
afternoon,  she  did  nothing  but  murmur,  that  I 
had  not  given  her  those  orders  before." 

I  wish  mothers  would  encourage  in  their 
daughters,  a  practical  knowledge  of  the  culinary 
art.  I  do  not  mean  simply  the  composition  of 
cakes,  sweetmeats  and  pastry :  temptations,  which, 
if  they  were  less  frequently  offered,  our  cata- 
logue of  diseases  would  be  undoubtedly  car- 
tailed.  But  I  allude  to  the  broad  principles  of 
the  art,  that  platform  on  which  our  life  stands, 
the  preparation  of  bread  and  meat,  vegetables 
and  fruit,  so  that  they  may  be  salutary  in  their 
influence  on  the  system,  and  neatly  and  elegantly 
presented  to  the  eye.  I  would  not  have  our 


192  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

tables  made  either  "  a  snare,  or  a  trap,  or  a  stum- 
bling-block." It  is  not  well  for  a  lady  to  shelter 
any  habitual  deficiencies  of  this  nature,  with 
the  excuse  that  she  attends  to  her  children. 
"This,  ought  she  to  have  done,  and  not  to  leave 
the  other  undone." 

Cookery,  it  is  surely  the  business  of  the  mis- 
tress of  a  family  either  to  do,  or  to  see  well  done. 
So  much  has  been  recently  written  by  medical 
men,  on  diet  and  digestion,  that  no  additional 
proof  can  be  needed,  of  the  close  affinity  which 
the  culinary  art  bears  to  health.  Neither  is  it  a 
despisable  discipline  of  the  mind.  Its  details  are 
almost  endless,  and  whoever  conquers  them,  and 
has  them  constantly  at  command  without  refer- 
ence, or  mistake,  may  lay  claim  to  memory,  in- 
dustry, energy,  and  some  other  departments  of 
intellect,  of  no  common  order. 

It  is  conceded  to  be  desirable  that  the  varieties 
of  exercise  for  our  sex  should  be  multiplied,  since 
it  is  not  always  convenient  or  possible  for  them 
to  take  it  in  the  open  air,  and  the  want  of  it  is  a 
source  of  much  serious  suffering.  Here  then  is 
a  species  of  exercise,  more  useful  than  callisthe- 
nicks,  more  benevolent  than  the  jumping-rope,  or 
battledoor,  and  bearing  on  the  politicks  of  the 
family,  with  sufficient  distinctness  to  gratify  even 
a  love  of  power.  And  if  the  wisdom  of  a  Lace- 
demonian king  were  extolled,  because  to  the  ques- 


EXAMPLE.  193 

tion,  "  what  it  was  most  proper  for  boys  to 
learn  ?"  he  replied,  "  what  they  ought  to  do,  when 
they  come  to  be  men ;"  can  the  judgment  of  the 
mother  be  praised,  who  keeps  out  of  the  view 
of  her  daughters,  what  will  be  required  of  them 
when  they  become  women?  Correct  judges 
will  never  deem  it  derogatory  to  female  dignity, 
to  take  an  active  part,  when  necessary,  in  what- 
ever promotes  the  comfort  and  economy  of  the 
household  for  which  it  legislates. 

The  wife  of  the  Lord  Protector  Cromwell,  was 
a  most  excellent  and  prudent  housewife.  He 
was  repeatedly  sustained  in  arduous  and  trying 
situations,  by  her  energy  and  dignified  character. 
It  has  been  remarked,  that  good  housewives 
usually  acquire  influence  over  their  husbands ;  as 
it  is  natural  to  confide  in  the  opinions  of  those 
who  are  distinguished  in  their  respective  spheres. 
Yet  men  of  cultivated  mind,  though  not  slow  in 
appreciating  the  value  of  good  housekeeping, 
usually  desire  in  woman  some  degree  of  intellect- 
ual congeniality  or  taste.  In  proportion  as  they 
possess  knowledge,  will  they  find  it  difficult  to 
respect  an  ignorant  companion.  So  convinced 
was  Rousseau,  of  the  importance  of  education  to 
domestic  intercourse,  that  he  deeply  regretted  he 
had  not  exerted  himself  to  supply  its  deficiencies 
in  his  wife.  "I  might  have  adorned  her  mind 
with  knowledge,"  said  he,  "and  this  would  have 
17 


194  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

closely  united  us  in  retirement.  It  is  especially 
in  solitude,  that  one  feels  the  advantages  of  living 
with  another  who  can  think." 

For  those  who  complain  that  the  cares  of 
housekeeping  so  absorb  their  time,  that  nothing 
remains,  there  is  still  the  remedy  of  added  sim- 
plicity, in  the  style  of  living,  and  in  dress.  Lei- 
sure may  be  thus  rescued,  for  other  and  higher 
pursuits.  Competitions  may  be  checked,  which 
sometimes  make  neighbourhoods,  or  even  villa- 
ges, more  like  combatants  in  the  Olympic  games, 
than  quiet  friends,  or  sincere  well-wishers.  More- 
over, the  ancient  athletse  had  the  advantage ;  for 
though  they  "  ran  all,  yet  one  received  the  prize," 
but  here,  they  run  all,  while  life  lasts,  and  yet 
gain  neither  goal,  nor  garland. 

Is  not  that  serenity  of  manner  and  counte- 
nance which  distinguishes  the  sect  of  Friends,  or 
Quakers,  and  makes  their  young  females  so  beau- 
tiful, somewhat  dependent  on  their  simplicity  of 
garb,  and  their  superiority  to  those  changing 
modes,  which  exact  from  the  votary  of  fashion 
the  vigilance  of  Argus,  with  some  good  degree 
of  the  pliancy  of  Proteus  ? 

Simplicity  of  taste,  extending  both  to  dress, 
and  manner  of  living,  is  peculiarly  fitting  in  the 
daughters  of  a  republick.  Reflecting  minds,  even 
from  the  ranks  of  nobility  and  royalty,  have 
borne  suffrage  in  its  favour.  They  have  tested 


EXAMPLE.  195 

by  experience  the  inability  of  show,  to  confer 
happiness.  Like  the  magnificent  monarch  of 
Israel,  who  surrounded  himself  with  what  the 
multitude  most  envy,  they  have  pronounced  all 
but  "  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit."  Jane  d' Al- 
bert, the  illustrious  Queen  of  Navarre,  strongly 
expressed  her  preference  of  simple  and  unobtru- 
sive enjoyments.  "How  inferior,"  said  she,  "is 
grandeur  of  life,  to  rectitude  of  mind !"  and  re- 
serving, as  it  were,  an  argument  to  her  theory, 
even  after  death,  gave  orders  that  her  body  should 
be  laid,  without  pomp,  in  her  father's  tomb. 

If  the  superfluities  of  life  are  retrenched,  the 
time  thus  saved  should  not  be  yielded  to  indo- 
lence, or  any  other  modification  of  selfishness. 
Home  should  be  the  centre,  but  not  the  boundary 
of  our  duties ;  the  focus  of  sympathy,  but  not  the 
point  where  it  terminates.  The  action  of  the 
social  feelings  is  essential  to  a  well-balanced 
character.  Morbid  diseases  are  generated  by 
an  isolated  life:  and  what  is  praised  as  love  of 
home,  sometimes  deserves  the  censure  of  a  differ- 
ent name.  Simple  hospitality  is  the  handmaid 
of  friendship  and  of  benevolence.  In  the  social 
visit,  heart  opens  to  heart,  and  we  become  the 
sharer  of  secret  joys  and  sorrows,  which  ceremo- 
nious intercourse  would  never  have  unlocked. 

A  venerable  clergyman,  who  had  been  eminent 
through  life  for  true  hospitality,  said  to  his  chil- 


196  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

dren,  "receive  your  guest  with  the  same  smile, 
the  same  kind  welcome,  whether  you  happen  to 
have  a  nice  dinner,  or  none  at  all."  It  is  pride, 
or  hardness  of  heart,  which  coldly  repels  the  un- 
expected visitant,  because  we  may  be  unprepared 
for  an  elegant,  or  luxurious  table. 

There  is  something  delightful  in  the  lineaments 
of  southern  hospitality.  The  perfect  ease  with 
which  a  guest  is  received,  naturalized  in  the 
family  circle,  and  all  the  painful  reserve  of  a 
stranger  banished,  is  so  beautiful,  that  it  seems 
to  take  rank  as  a  virtue.  We,  of  the  northern 
States,  contend  for  the  possession  of  equal  warmth 
of  feeling,  but  have  by  no  means  attained  to  such 
happy  modes  of  expressing  it.  We  are  prone  to 
impute  the  difference  to  different  modes  of  do- 
mestic organization.  It  is  true,  that  to  receive 
visitors,  with  a  house  full  of  servants,  or  with 
only  one,  or,  as  it  may  happen,  none  at  all,  can- 
not be  a  matter  of  indifference  to  the  lady  of  the 
house.  If  her  thoughts  are  busied  about  "what 
they  shall  eat,  or  what  they  shall  drink,"  when 
there  is  no  cook,  and  wherewithal  they  shall  be 
served,  when  there  is  no  waiter,  and  how  she, 
being  finite,  can  best  appear  at  the  same  time  in 
parlour  and  kitchen,  and  figure  both  as  mistress 
and  maid,  she  may  be  forgiven  for  some  indica- 
tions of  an  absent  mind,  or  hurried  deportment. 
Still,  were  we  less  proud,  more  willing  that  our 


EXAMPLE.  197 

friends  should  take  us  just  as  we  are,  there  would 
be  a  greener  growth  of  sympathy  among  us,  and 
less  cause  of  complaint,  that  our  frigid  climate  has 
wrought  some  effect  upon  the  heart. 

I  wish  that  housekeepers  would  bestow  a  little 
more  thought  upon  their  mode  of  intercourse  with 
domestics.  "Oblige  your  children,"  says  the  vener- 
able Matthew  Carey,  "to  treat  domestics  with 
uniform  civility.  A  cardinal  rule,  the  dictate  of 
common  sense,  reason,  and  religion,  is  to  treat 
them  as  you  would  wish  to  be  treated  yourselves. 
When  they  do  their  duty  to  your  satisfaction, 
give  them  their  meed  of  praise :  it  will  encourage 
them  to  continue  in  a  right  course."  If  our  con- 
tract with  them  were  less  mercenary  in  its  na- 
ture ;  if  we  considered  them  as  brought  under 
our  roof,  not  merely  to  perform  menial  offices, 
but  to  be  made  better,  to  become  sharers  in  our 
kind  feelings,  recipients  of  our  advice,  subjects  of 
our  moral  teachings,  partakers  in  the  petitions 
which  daily  ascend  to  the  Universal  Father;  if 
we  more  frequently  examined  our  conduct  to 
them,  by  the  test  of  the  Golden  Rule,  more  fre- 
quently remembered  that  for  them,  as  well  as  for 
us,  "Christ  both  died  and  rose,  and  revived,"  we 
should  have  the  sweet  consciousness  of  having 
increased  their  true  happiness,  as  well  as  our 
own. 

It  was  not  the  least  among  the  virtues  of  the 
17* 


198  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

excellent  Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings,  that  she  con- 
sidered her  servants  as  humble  friends,  and  strove 
to  elevate  their  characters.  "She  presided  over 
her  domestics,"  said  her  biographer,  "with  the  dis- 
positions of  a  parent.  She  not  only  employed 
the  skill  of  such  artificers  as  were  engaged  about 
her  house,  to  consult  the  comfort  and  convenience 
of  her  servants,  that  they  might  suffer  no  unne- 
cessary hardship,  but  also  provided  for  the  im- 
provement of  their  minds,  the  decency  of  their 
behaviour,  and  the  propriety  of  their  manners." 
If  a  lady  so  accomplished,  as  to  have  been  desig- 
nated in  the  writings  of  Sir  Richard  Steele  as 
the  "divine  Aspasia,"  the  possessor  of  immense 
wealth,  and  a  member  of  the  nobility  of  a  royal 
realm,  thus  devoted  time  and  tenderness  to  her 
servants,  why  should  those,  who  under  a  republi- 
can government,  profess  equality,  fear  to  demean 
themselves  by  similar  condescension? 

The  want  of  good  domestics  is  a  general  com- 
plaint. It  constitutes  one  of  the  most  formidable 
evils  in  housekeeping.  From  the  number  of  ma- 
nufactories, where  female  labour  is  in  demand, 
and  the  dislike  of  servitude  which  prevails  in  a 
free  country,  it  is  more  likely  to  increase  than  to 
diminish.  The  foreigners,  on  whom  we  are  often 
compelled  to  rely,  the  daughters  of  Erin  or  Switz- 
erland, cannot,  from  their  estrangement  of  cus- 
tom, and  diiference  of  dialect,  readily  assimilate 


EXAMPLE.  199 

to  our  wishes.  We  expect  too  much  of  them, 
when  we  require  them  to  learn  and  remember, 
to  devise  and  execute,  like  our  own  early-educa- 
ted people.  What,  then,  is  to  be  the  remedy? 
If  we  cannot  so  simplify  the  structure  of  our 
establishments  as  to  do  with  fewer  domestics,  is 
there  any  mode  that  we  can  adopt  to  render 
them  more  trust-worthy,  or  to  secure  their  per- 
manent assistance?  Can  we  educate  them  our- 
selves ? 

Formerly,  in  the  small  towns  and  villages  of 
New  England,  when  a  bride  entered  her  new 
home,  she  brought  with  her  a  child  of  the  poor. 
She  instructed  her  personally  in  the  light  services 
that  were  to  be  allotted  her;  she  held  herself  ac- 
countable, for  her  neatness,  and  skilful  industry, 
and  love  of  truth;  she  took  pride  in  her  good 
appearance,  and  correct  behaviour;  she  daily 
heard  her  read,  and  if  there  were  no  appropriate 
school  in  the  vicinity,  saw  that  she  was  taught 
at  home,  during  the  long  evenings  of  winter,  to 
write,  and  to  perform  the  simpler  operations  of 
arithmetick;  she  often  called  her  to  sit  near  her, 
with  her  needle,  and  encouraged  her  to  take  such 
an  interest  in  the  concerns  of  the  household,  as 
made  her  labours  a  heart-service;  she  impressed 
on  her,  strict  moral  principle,  and  required  that  at 
the  family  altar,  and  the  house  of  God,  she  should 
be  found  in  her  place.  The  care  of  providing 


200  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

her  fitting  apparel,  and  the  responsibility  for  her 
good  conduct,  awoke  in  the  young  matron  some 
semblance  of  maternal  solicitude ;  and  when  sud- 
denly forsaken  by  hirelings,  or  perhaps  left  alone, 
with  unexpected  guests,  she  has  been  astonished 
at  what  that  young  hand  would  zealously  per- 
form, or,  in  her  sicknesses,  been  soothed  by  grate- 
ful, affectionate  attentions,  which  could  not  be 
purchased  with  money.  And  I  have  seen  the 
same  matron,  when  time  had  silvered  her  bright 
locks,  visiting,  with  benevolent  pleasure,  the  com- 
fortable, well-ordered  homes  of  the  humble  friends 
she  had  thus  reared,  and  rejoicing  to  see  the  good 
habits  which  she  had  herself  implanted,  bringing 
forth  fruit  in  another  generation. 

This  custom  of  educating  domestics,  though 
somewhat  fallen  into  disuse,  is  here  and  there 
laudably  cherished.  Some  notable  housekeepers 
have  set  the  example  of  having  the  three  depart- 
ments of  cook,  chambermaid,  and  waiter,  filled  by 
girls  under  eighteen,  and  every  service  discharged 
with  the  regularity  of  clock-work.  The  succes- 
sion was  preserved  unbroken,  by  receiving  a  new 
member  into  the  class,  as  the  oldest  attained  ma- 
turity, and  was  advanced  to  the  higher  station 
of  nurse,  with  the  perquisite  of  wages,  or  bound 
apprentice  to  a  trade,  or,  as  is  often  the  case  in 
the  agricultural  districts  of  our  country,  prepared, 
by  an  early  marriage,  for  a  household  of  her 


EXAMPLE.  201 

own.  Such  an  arrangement  must,  however,  re- 
quire much  personal  attention  and  energy,  and  a 
hand  at  the  helm,  which,  as  was  said  of  the 
ministry  of  William  Pitt,  "caused  its  steadiness 
to  be  felt  in  every  motion  of  the  vessel." 

Few  ladies,  in  our  own  times,  will  venture  to 
admit  more  than  one  scholar  of  this  nature.  Most 
of  them  shrink  back  from  it  as  an  appalling  care. 
It  is  indeed  a  care,  and  to  a  conscientious  mind 
not  a  slight  one.  But  the  sphere  of  a  faithful 
housekeeper  is  sprinkled  with  cares,  like  the  inde- 
finable stars  in  the  galaxy;  and  this  is  a  care 
which  may  be  moulded  into  an  ally,  and  set  in 
array  against  other  cares,  with  some  hope  of  ad- 
vantage. Among  the  many  young  and  lovely 
beings,  whose  hearts  are  now  trembling  at  the 
thought  of  leaving  the  parental  hearth-stone,  yet 
thrilling  with  the  hope  of  presiding  over  one  for 
the  object  of  their  fondest  love,  is  there  not  one 
anxious  to  mark  this  great  era  of  life,  by  an  act 
of  benevolence,  and  willing  to  take  some  orphan 
girl  to  her  new  home,  and  train  her  up  in  use- 
fulness and  piety?  Is  there  not  some  matron, 
who  has  never  attempted  this  charity,  who  might 
undertake  it,  for  the  sake  of  the  unprovided  and 
sorrowing  poor,  and  find  it  a  gain  to  her  own 
house?  It  is  peculiarly  a  deed  of  mercy,  in  large 
cities,  thus  to  shelter  the  foundling,  or  outcast 
child,  from  degradation  and  vice.  Risk  of  disap- 


202  LET.TERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

pointment  must  indeed  be  incurred,  but  there  is 
hope  of  a  pure  and  precious  payment,  and  that 
it  will  bear  proportion  to  the  fidelity  and  sense 
of  religious  obligation  with  which  the  trust  is 
discharged.  Should  this  form  of  household  teach- 
ing again  become  prevalent,  would  not  an  array 
of  well-trained  domestics  be  discernible  on  the 
face  of  society  ?  Admitting  that  they  did  not  long 
continue  in  a  state  of  servitude,  the  intercourse 
during  their  minority  might  still  be  made  mu- 
tually serviceable.  Does  not  this  kind  of  teach- 
ing rank  among  the  forms  of  patriotism,  which 
woman's  sphere  comprehends  ? 

But  of  whatever  class  or  countiy  our  domes- 
tics are,  let  us  encourage  them  to  consider  the 
interests  of  the  family  their  own,  and  by  taking 
them  into  our  sympathies,  try  to  make  them 
worthy  of  our  regard  and  friendship.  Then 
would  some  of  the  most  formidable  obstacles  of 
housekeeping  be  surmounted,  and  mothers  have 
more  time  for  other  duties,  and  more  enjoyment 
in  them. 

I  am  persuaded,  that  we  might  perform  all 
that  devolves  on  us,  and  still  persevere  in  a 
course  of  intellectual  improvement.  One  of  the 
most  formidable  objections  to  matrimony,  and 
frequently  urged  by  gentlemen  who  have  not  en- 
tered into  its  bonds,  is,  that  it  puts  an  end  to 
feminine  accomplishment. 


EXAMPLE.  203 

A  mail  of  the  world,  and  a  close  observer,  once 
said,  "When  a  lady  is  married,  she  seems  in 
haste  to  dismiss  whatever  once  rendered  her  at- 
tractive. If  she  had  spent  ever  so  much  time  in 
learning  music,  she  shuts  up  her  piano.  If  she 
excelled  in  painting,  she  lays  aside  her  pencil. 
If  she  had  fine  manners,  she  forgets  them.  She 
forsakes  society.  She  puts  an  end  to  her  early 
friendships.  She  has  no  time  to  write  a  letter. 
Ten  to  one,  she  grows  careless  in  her  dress,  and 
does  not  reserve  even  neatness,  to  comfort  her 
husband.  I  am  myself  too  sincere  an  admirer  of 
the  sex,  to.  lend  a  hand  in  the  demolition  of  all 
that  makes  them  beautiful."  Now,  is  the  opinion 
of  this  observing  gentleman,  truth,  or  satire? 
Doubtless,  a  mixture  of  both. 

Still  a  part  of  the  censure  may  be  resolved 
into  praise.  That  new  cares  and  affections,  clus- 
tering round  a  home,  should  turn  the  heart  from 
lighter  pursuits,  and  extrinsic  pleasures,  is  natu- 
ral, if  not  unavoidable.  But  this  point  must  be 
guarded.  Nothing  that  is  really  valuable  ought 
to  escape.  The  attractions  which  first  won  the 
love  of  a  husband,  should  be  preserved,  were  it 
only  for  that  tender  remembrance.  Friends 
ought  not  to  be  neglected.  Correspondences 
need  not  be  renounced.  There  are  surely  some 
accomplishments  which  might  be  retained.  Why 
should  our  sex,  by  carelessness  or  lassitude, 


.204  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

throw  reproach  on  a  state  for  which  Heaven  has 
formed  them?  Do  I  hear  some  mother,  and 
mistress  of  a  family,  exclaim,  "  How  can  I  write 
letters?  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  find  time  to 
copy  them.  Besides,  I  never  was  an  adept  in 
the  rules  of  letter-writing." 

"  Time  to  copy  letters ! "  Who  would  think  of 
such  a  thing?  A  copied  letter  is  like  a  trans- 
planted wild-flower,  like  a  caged  bird.  Let  the 
writers  of  formal  treatises  copy  them  as  often  as 
they  will,  and  poets  dip  and  re-dip  their  poems 
in  the  fountain  of  the  brain,  as  deep  as  Achilles 
was  plunged  by  his  mother,  but  leave  that  one 
little  "  folio  of  four  pages"  free  from  the  "  wim- 
ples and  crisping-pins "  of  criticism.  Shut  out,  if 
you  will,  every  star  in  your  literary  firmament, 
that  nature  and  simplicity  have  enkindled,  and 
tolerate  nothing  there,  but  right  fashionable  draw- 
ing-room lamps,  yet  leave,  I  pray  you,  one  single 
arrow-slit,  through  which  the  eye  of  honest  feeling 
may  look  unblamed,  and  let  that  be  the  letter 
which  friend  writeth  to  friend 

"  Rules  for  letter-writing ! "  What  rules  can  it 
require?  We  learn  to  talk  without  rules,  and  let- 
ter-writing is  but  to  talk  upon  paper.  It  seems 
one  of  the  natural  vocations  of  our  sex,  for  it 
comes  within  the  province  of  the  heart.  It  has 
been  somewhere  said,  that  with  women,  the  heart 
is  the  citadel,  and  all  beside,  the  suburbs ;  but 


EXAMPLE.  205 

that  with  men,  the  heart  is  only  an  out-work, 
whose  welfare  does  not  materially  affect  the  prin- 
cipal fortress.  According  to  the  anatomy  of  Fon- 
tenelle,  we  have  one  fibre  more  in  the  heart,  than 
the  other  sex,  and  one  less  in  the  brain.  Possi- 
bly, he  might  have  been  qualified  to  excel  in  dis- 
sections of  the  heart,  from  the  circumstance  of 
being  supposed  by  most  of  his  cotemporaries,  to 
have  none  of  his  own. 

"Rules  for  letter-writing!"  Set  up  the  note- 
book, before  your  harpsichord,  or  piano,  but  insult 
not  the  Eolian  harp,  with  the  spectre  of  a  gamut, 
and  leave  the  rebeck  as  free  as  the  dancer's  heel. 
The  especial  excellence  of  the  epistolary  art,  is, 
that  as  "face  answereth  to  face,  in  water,"  so  it 
causeth  heart  to  answer  to  heart.  Let  the  ambi- 
tious author  wrestle  as  he  is  able,  with  the  visions 
of  frowning  readers  that  beset  his  dreams,  or 
shrink  beneath  the  mace  of  criticism,  suspended 
over  him,  like  the  sword  of  Damocles,  but  permit 
us,  women,  now  and  then,  to  escape  to  some 
quiet  nook,  and  hold  sweet  converse  with  a  dis- 
tant friend.  Amid  the  tavern-meals,  which  the 
mind  so  continually  takes,  allow  it  now  and  then 
one  solitary  repast,  upon  the  simple,  sugared 
viands,  that  it  loved  in  childhood.  Pouring  out 
the  thoughts,  in  the  epistolary  style,  has  such 
power  to  confer  pleasure,  to  kindle  sympathy,  to 
comfort  affliction,  to  counsel  inexperience,  and  to 
18 


206  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

strengthen  piety,  that  it  is  great  cause  of  regret 
when  it  is  entirely  laid  aside. 

Economy  of  time,  and  energy  of  purpose,  may 
so  combine  domestic  and  maternal  duties,  with  in- 
tellectual improvement,  that  each  department  will 
prosper.  We  have  all  of  us  known  some  few 
happy  examples  of  the  union  of  fine  social  feel- 
ings, cherished  recollections  of  friendship,  and 
cultivation  of  intellect,  with  all  the  sacred  chari- 
ties of  home.  Such  was  the  Empress  Eudocia, 
amid  the  hindrances  and  temptations  of  the  lux- 
urious court  of  Constantinople.  She  continued 
to  make  proficiency  in  the  branches  of  Icnowledge 
which  in  youth  she  had  loved.  Amid  every 
other  employment,  or  allurement,  literature  and 
religion  maintained  their  power  over  her  mind. 
She  composed  a  poetical  paraphrase,  of  many  of 
the  historic  and  prophetic  books  of  the  Bible ; 
also,  of  the  life  of  our  Saviour,  and  the  writings 
of  some  of  the  fathers.  They  are  mentioned  with 
approbation,  by  the  author  of  the  "Decline  and 
Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire ; "  and  Europe,  in 
those  early  ages,  saw  with  admiration  a  woman, 
a  wife,  a  mother,  and  an  empress,  engaged  in  re- 
searches so  unusual,  and  so  profound. 

Feeling,  as  we  do,  the  importance  of  the  station 
which  Heaven  has  assigned  us,  let  us  examine 
with  a  vigilant  eye,  what  influence  the  systems 
of  education  which  we  authorize,  are  likely  to 


EXAMPLE.  207 

exercise  upon  its  happiness.  How  are  our  daugh- 
ters brought  up?  Admitting  that  matrimony  will 
be  their  probable  destination,  is  there  any  adap- 
tation in  their  habits,  tempers  and  tastes,  to  the 
duties  of  that  destination?  After  the  gilding  and 
garniture  that  adorn  its  entrance,  have  become 
familiar,  and  the  flowers  that  sprang  up  at  its 
threshold  begin  to  feel  the  frost,  are  they  pre- 
pared to  become  rational  companions,  discreet 
counsellors,  prudent  guides,  skilful  housekeepers, 
judicious  and  affectionate  mothers  ?  If  they  have 
entered  hastily,  or  without  counting  the  cost,  this 
most  responsible  station,  if  their  acquisitions, 
whether  of  music,  or  drawing,  or  dancing,  or 
fashionable  manners,  or  personal  decoration,  or 
light  literature,  or  the  surface  of  languages,  have 
been  made  for  the  sake  of  display,  the  very  prin- 
ciple on  which  their  education  has  proceeded  must 
be  reversed,  perhaps,  eradicated.  Will  they  make 
this  change  gracefully,  meekly,  with  happiness 
to  themselves,  and  those  around  them?  That 
is  the  experiment.  It  would  be  kind  in  us 
mothers,  not  to  expose  our  daughters  to  hazard, 
on  subjects  of  such  high  import.  It  would  be  a 
mercy  to  ourselves,  as  well  as  to  them,  if  we  felt 
a  reasonable  assurance,  that  they  were  qualified 
for  the  sphere  which  they  have  entered. 

It  would  be  wise  also  for  daughters  to  investi- 
gate,  how  far  their  studies,  their  pursuits,  their 


208  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

daily  habits,  have  any  good  practical  tendency ; 
how  many  of  them  must  be  modified,  reformed, 
or  wholly  laid  aside,  when  the  duties  of  life 
come  upon  them;  and  which  of  them  are  most 
likely  to  obstruct,  or  render  irksome,  the  occupa- 
tions of  maturity. 

But,  mothers,  the  weight  of  this  business  is 
with  you.  Do  you  desire  those  whom  you  edu- 
cate, to  become  good  housekeepers?  Be  so  your- 
selves. Would  it  grieve  you  to  see  them  igno- 
rant how  to  promote  the  prosperity  of  their  fami- 
ly, careless  of  their  own  persons,  negligent  of 
their  friends,  inattentive  to  the  true  welfare  of 
their  children?  Avoid  these  errors  in  your  own 
conduct. 

Do  you  wish  them  to  unite  with  the  faithful 
performance  of  every  domestic  duty,  social  vir- 
tues, and  mental  attainments  ?  Shew  them  the 
possibility,  the  beauty  of  such  a  combination. 
Ever  keep  in  mind,  that  the  loftiest  teachings, 
the  most  eloquent  precepts,  must  lose  half  their 
force,  without  the  sanction  of  your  own  example. 


OPINION   OP  WEALTH.  209 


LETTER    XVII. 

OPINION    OF    WEALTH. 

EARLIER  than  we  suppose,  children  form  opin- 
ions of  those  who  are  around  them.  They  are 
anxious  to  know  who  are  good,  and  how  they 
have  earned  that  distinction.  We  should  be 
ready  to  guide  their  first  ideas  of  what  is  worthy 
of  praise,  or  dispraise,  for  these  are  the  germina- 
tions of  principle.  Let  us  not  inoculate  them 
with  the  love  of  money.  It  is  the  prevailing  evil 
of  our  country.  It  makes  us  a  care-worn  people. 
"  I  know  an  American,"  said  a  satirical  traveller, 
"wherever  I  meet  him,  by  the  perpetual  recur- 
rence of  the  word  dollar.  See  if  you  can  talk 
with  him  one  hour,  and  not  hear  him  use  it." 

Not  only  does  the  inordinate  desire  of  wealth 
engross  conversation,  but  turn  thought  from  its 
nobler  channels,  and  infect  the  mind  as  with  an 
incurable  disease.  It  moves  the  ambitious  to 
jealous  or  fierce  competition,  and  the ,  idle  to 
fraud,  and  the  unprincipled  to  crime.  Ask  the 
keepers  of  our  prisons,  what  vice  peoples  many 
of  their  cells  ?  They  will  tell  you,  the  desire  to 
18* 


210  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

get  money  without  labour.  Ask  the  chaplain  of 
yonder  penitentiary,  what  crime  that  haggard 
man  has  committed,  whom  he  is  toiling  to  pre- 
pare for  an  ignominious  death?  He  replies,  "the 
love  of  money  led  him  to  strike  at  midnight  the 
assassin's  blow." 

The  determination  to  be  rich,  when  disjoined 
from  honest  industry,  opens  the  avenues  of  sin; 
and  even  when  connected  with  it,  is  dangerous, 
unless  regulated  by  the  self-denying  spirit  of  re- 
ligion. Allowed  to  overleap  the  limits  of  mode- 
ration, it  becomes  a  foe  to  domestic  enjoyment, 
and  tramples  on  the  social  pleasures  and  charities 
of  life. 

Since,  then,  the  science  of  accumulation  is  in 
its  abuse  destructive,  and  in  its  legitimate  use 
unsafe,  without  the  restraint  of  strict  principle,  let 
us  not  perplex  the  unfolding  mind  with  its  pre- 
cepts, or  confound  it  with  its  combinations.  The 
child  hears  perpetual  conversation  about  the  dear- 
ness  or  cheapness  of  the  articles  with  which  he 
is  surrounded.  Perhaps  the  associations  which 
he  forms,  are  not  between  the  furniture  and  its 
convenience,  between  his  apparel  and  its  fitness 
or  comfort,  but  between  the  quantity  of  money 
which  they  cost,  or  the  adroitness  with  which  the 
merchant  was  beaten  down.  He  is  interested  by 
frequent  remarks  from  lips  that  he  reveres,  about 
how  much  such  and  such  a  person  is  worth; 


OPINION    OF   WEALTH.  211 

and  hears  the  gradation  gravely  settled  between 
neighbour  and  neighbour.  "  Does  worth  mean 
goodness  ?"  inquires  the  child.  "  No.  It  means 
money."  "Worth  makes  the  man,  and  want  of 
it  the  fellow,"  said  the  ethical  poet.  But  the 
child,  coming  with  his  privately  amended  diction- 
ary, says,  "Money  makes  the  man ;"  of  course, 
he  whose  purse  is  empty,  is  less  than  a  man. 
Some  person  is  spoken  of  as  possessing  distin- 
guished talents.  The  listening  child  is  prepared 
to  admire,  till  the  clause,  "he  can  never  make  a 
fortune,"  changes  his  respect  to  pity  or  indiffer- 
ence. The  piety  of  another  is  mentioned,  his 
love  of  doing  good,  his  efforts  to  make  others  bet- 
ter and  happier.  "But  he  is  poor."  Alas,  that 
the  forming  mind  should  be  left  to  undervalue 
those  deeds  and  motives,  which,  in  the  sight  of 
heaven,  are  the  only  true  riches. 

Possibly,  in  the  freedom  of  domestic  discourse, 
some  lady  is  censured  for  vanity  or  ignorance, 
for  ungrammatical  language,  or  an  ill-spelt  epis- 
tle. But  "she  is  rich,"  may  be  the  reply,  and 
he  sees  the  extenuation  accepted.  If  he  is  skil- 
ful at  drawing  inferences,  or  indisposed  to  study, 
he  says,  "money  is  an  excuse  for  ignorance,  so 
if  I  have  but  little  knowledge,  it  is  no  matter,  if 
I  can  only  get  rich."  He  hears  a  man  spoken 
of  as  unkind,  or  intemperate,  or  irreligious.  He 
listens  for  the  sentence  of  blame,  that  such  con- 


212  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

duct  deserves.  "He  is  worth  half  a  million,"  is 
the  reply.  And  there  is  silence.  "  Can  money 
excuse  sin  ?"  asks  the  poor  child,  in  silent  rumi- 
nations. 

It  is  unwarily  remarked  at  the  table,  "such  a 
young  man  will  be  very  rich  when  his  father 
dies."  Beware  lest  that  busy  casuist  arrive  at 
the  conclusion,  that  a  parent's  death  is  not  a 
great  affliction  if  he  leaves  something  behind: 
that  if  his  possessions  are  very  large,  the  event 
may  be  both  contemplated  and  borne  with  indif- 
ference. Now,  though  the  long  teaching  of  a 
selfish  world,  may  fasten  this  result  on  the  minds 
of  men,  it  should  never  enter  the  simple  sanctu- 
ary of  a  child's  heart,  displacing  the  first,  holiest 
affections  of  nature. 

A  little  girl  once  heard  some  conversation  in 
the  family  about  the  hiring  of  a  sempstress,  and 
reported  it  to  her  sister.  "One  is  very  poor,"  said 
she,  '-'and  has  an  aged  mother  and  two  little  chil- 
dren to  support.  The  other  is  not  so  poor.  But 
she  does  not  ask  as  much  by  several  cents  a 
day.  I  heard  it  said  that  she  does  not  work  as 
well.  But,  then,  she  works  cheaper,  and  dresses 
better.  So  we  have  hired  her.  Yet,  sister,  I  felt 
sorry  for  the  widow  with  the  babies,  for  she 
looked  sad  and  pale,  and  said  she  had  no  way  to 
get  bread  for  them  but  her  needle.  I  was  afraid 
they  would  cry  to  be  fed,  and  that  the  lame 


OPINION    OF    WEALTH.  213 

grand-mother  would  suffer."  The  sister  who  had 
lived  longer  in  this  world  of  calculation,  said,  "  it 
is  perfectly  right  to  hire  her  who  asks  the  least, 
because  it  saves  money." 

Now,  my  dear  friends,  is  it  not  both  unkind 
and  hazardous  thus  to  puzzle  the  moral  sense  of 
our  children?  to  leave  them  to  believe  that  wealth 
is  both  an  excuse  for  ignorance  and  a  shelter  for 
vice?  that  it  is  but  another  name  for  virtue?  that 
for  the  want  of  it,  neither  talent  or  piety  can 
atone?  that  it  is  right  to  desire  the  death  of  a 
relative  to  obtain  it  ?  or  to  grind  the  face  of  the 
poor  to  save  it?  How  could  the  most  inveterate 
enemy  injure  them  so  directly  and  permanently, 
as  by  making  their  earliest  system  of  ethics  a 
contradiction  and  a  solecism?  Yet  this  is  done 
by  the  cftiversation  and  example  of  parents,  who 
love  them  as  their  own  souls. 

Of  what  effect  is  it,  that  we  repeat  to  them  in 
grave  lectures  on  Sundays,  that  they  must  "lay 
up  for  themselves  treasures  in  heaven,"  when  they 
can  see  us,  the  other  six  days,  toiling  after,  and 
coveting  only  "treasures  on  earth?"  When  we 
tell  them  that  they  must  not  "value  the  gold  that 
perisheth,"  neither  "love  the  world,  nor  the  things 
of  the  world,"  if  they  weigh  the  precepts  with 
our  illustration  of  them,  will  they  not  think  that 
we  mean  to  palm  on  them  what  we  disregard 
ourselves,  and  despise  our  cunning?  or  else,  that 


214  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

we  assert  what  we  do  not  believe,  and  so  distrust 
our  sincerity? 

It  is  indeed  necessary,  where  the  subsistence 
of  a  family  is  to  be  acquired,  that  much  atten- 
tion and  industry  should  be  employed.  Parents 
must  often  confer  together  on  items  of  expense, 
and  understand  each  other  in  every  point  of 
economy.  But  these  consultations  may  surely  be 
so  managed  as  not  to  absorb  the  thoughts  of 
their  offspring.  It  is  not  necessary  that  they  mo- 
nopolize all  the  discourse  at  the  fireside,  or  that 
the  domestic  board  be  turned  into  an  exchange- 
table,  or  that  the  child  of  a  few  summers  be 
made  a  sharper. 

Among  the  forms  of  benevolence,  which  in  our 
age  of  the  world  are  multiplied  and  various,  per- 
haps few  of  us  sufficiently  keep  in  %iew  the 
charity  of  wages.  To  assist  the  poor,  through 
their  own  industry,  ennobles  them.  It  keeps 
alive  that  love  of  independence,  which  is  so  im- 
portant in  a  free  country.  To  grudge,  or  stint 
the  wages  of  female  labour,  is  false  economy.  It 
is  to  swell  the  ranks  of  degradation  and  vice. 
In  our  sex  it  is  unpardonable  cruelty;  for  the 
avenues  in  which  they  can  gain  an  honest  sub- 
sistence, are  neither  so  numerous  or  so  flowery, 
that  we  may  close  them  at  pleasure,  and  be  in- 
nocent. We  ought  not  to  consider  ourselves  as 
doing  the  duty  of  Christians,  though  we  subscribe 


OPINION   OF   WEALTH.  215 

liberally  to  foreign  and  popular  charities,  while 
we  withhold  the  helping  hand,  or  the  word  of 
sympathy,  from  the  female  labourer  within  our 
own  gates. 

I  know  not  that  I  narrate  an  uncommon,  or 
peculiar  circumstance,  when  I  mention  a  young 
girl,  brought  up  in  comparative  affluence,  who, 
at  the  sudden  death  of  her  father,  was  .left  with- 
out resources.  The  mother's  health  failed,  through 
grief  and  misfortune,  and  she  nobly  •  resolved  to 
earn  a  subsistence  for  both.  She  turned  to  the 
needle,  with  which  she  had  been  dextrous  for 
amusement,  or  the  decoration  of  her  own  apparel. 
A  little  instruction  enabled  her  to  pursue,  from 
house  to  house,  the  occupation  of  a  dress-maker. 

At  first,  some  of  the  delicate  feelings  of  early 
culture  clung  around  her.  She  dared  scarcely  to 
raise  her  eyes,  at  the  table  of  strangers';  and 
when  at  night,  money  was  given  her,  she  felt 
half  ashamed  to  take  it.  But  want  soon  extin- 
guished those  lingerings  of  timidity  and  refine- 
ment. Before  her  pittance  was  earned,  it  was 
mentally  devoted  to  the  purchase  of  some  com- 
fort for  her  enfeebled  mother.  It  soon  became 
evident  that  her  common  earnings  were  insuffi- 
cient. She  took  home  extra  work,  and  abridged 
her  intervals  of  rest.  Her  candle  went  not  out 
by  night,  and  sometimes  when  her  mother  had 
retired,  she  almost  extinguished  the  fire,  continu- 


216  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

ing  to  \vork  with  chilled  hands  and  feet,  lest  the 
stock  of  fuel  should  not  suffice  until  her  slender 
earnings  would  allow  her  to  purchase  more. 

Her  nervous  system  became  overwrought  and 
diseased.  Those  for  whom  she  worked,  were 
often  querulous,  and  hard  to  please.  She  felt 
an  insuperable  longing  for  a  kind  word,  an 
encouraging  look,  for  some  form  of  sympathy,  to 
sustain  the  sensitive  spirit.  Those  who  hired 
her,  had  not  put  these  into  the  contract.  Work, 
on  her  part,  and  money  on  theirs,  was  all  the 
stipulation.  They  did  not  perceive  that  her  step 
grew  feeble,  as  day  by  day,  she  passed  through 
the  crowded  streets  to  her  task,  or  night  after 
night  returned  to  nurse  her  infirm  mother.  A 
sudden  flush  came  upon  her  cheek,  and  she 
sank  into  the  grave,  before  the  parent  for  whom 
she  had  toiled. 

The  wife  of  a  sailor,  during  his  long  periods 
of  absence,  did  all  in  her  power,  to  aid  him  in 
diminishing  then*  expenses.  He  was  not  of  that 
class,  who  spend  their  wages  on  their  arrival 
in  port,  and  forget  their  family.  But  as  that 
family  increased,  his  earnings,  without  rigid  econ- 
omy on  her  part,  would  have  been  insufficient 
for  their  support. 

At  length,  the  bitter  news  came,  that  her  hus- 
band was  lost  at  sea.  When  the  first  shock  of 
grief  had  subsided,  she  summoned  her  resolution, 


OPINION   OP   WEALTH.  217 

and  determined  to  do  that  for  her  children,  which 
their  father  had  so  often  expressed  his  wish  to 
have  done:  that  they  should  be  kept  togeth- 
er, and  not  be  dependent  on  charity.  She  med- 
itated what  mode  of  livelihood  would  best  ena- 
ble her  to  comply  with  a  wish,  to  her  so  sa- 
cred. She  had  great  personal  strength,  and  a 
good  constitution.  She  made  choice  of  the  hard- 
est work,  which  is  performed  by  females,  be- 
cause it  seemed  to  promise  the  most  immediate 
reward.  Often,  after  her  hard  task  of  washing, 
did  she  forget  her  weariness,  as  in  the  dusky 
twilight,  she  hastened  toward  her  lowly  home,  as 
the  mother-bird  nerves  her  wing,  when  she  draws 
nearer  to  her  nest. 

But  she  found  her  sickly  babe  a  sufferer  from 
these  absences,  and  sometimes  accidents  befel  the 
other  little  ones,  from  her  having  no  person  with 
whom  to  leave  them.  The  sum  which  she  had 
earned,  would  not  always  pay  for  the  injury  they 
had  sustained  by  the  want  of  her  sheltering  care. 
It  occasionally  happened,  that  if  the  lady  for 
whom  she  worked,  was  out,  or  engaged  with  com- 
pany, she  returned  without  her  payment,  for 
which,  either  to  wait,  or  to  go  again,  were  incon- 
veniences, which  those  who  dwell  in  abodes  of 
plenty  cannot  estimate. 

Was  there  not  some  labour  which  she  could 
perform  at  home,  and  thus  protect  the  nurslings, 
19 


218  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

for  whose  subsistence  she  toiled?  The  spinning- 
wheel,  and  loom,  first  presented  themselves  to  her 
thought,  for  she  had  been  skilful  in  their  use,  in 
the  far-off  agricultural  village  where  her  youth 
was  spent.  But  domestic  manufactures  had  be- 
come unfashionable,  and  she  could  obtain  no  such 
employment.  Coarse  needle-work,  seemed  her 
only  resource.  At  this,  she  wrought  incessantly, 
scarcely  allowing  herself  time  to  get,  or  to  par- 
take of  a  scanty  meal.  But  after  all  was  done, 
the  remuneration  was  inadequate  to  their  necessi- 
ties. She  could  scarcely  supply  a  sufficiency  of 
the  coarsest  food.  Her  children  shivered,  as  the 
winter  drew  on.  Their  garments,  though  con- 
stantly mended,  were  thin,  and  their  poor  little 
feet,  bare  and  blue.  She  drew  back  from  the 
miserable  fire,  that  they  might  be  warmed,  and 
shuddered  as  she  saw  the  means  of  sustaining 
this  comfort,  wasting  away. 

Still,  the  injunction  of  her  departed  husband 
lay  deep  and  warm  in  her  heart.  She  asked  no 
charity.  She  remitted  no  exertion.  And  her 
whole  life  was  as  one  prayer  to  God. 

At  this  crisis,  a  society  formed  on  the  true 
principle  of  benevolence,  to  aid  poverty  through 
its  own  efforts,  arose,  to  save  her  from  destruc- 
tion. Its  express  object  was  to  improve  the  con- 
dition of  the  tempest-tost  mariner,  and  his  suf- 
fering household.  It  comprised  an  establishment, 


OPINION    OF    WEALTH.  219 

where  garments  were  made  for  seamen;  and  here 
she  obtained  a  constant  supply  of  needle-work, 
with  liberal  and  prompt  payment.  One  of  its 
most  beautiful  features,  was  a  school,  where  the 
elementary  branches  of  a  good  education  were 
gratuitously  taught.  Here,  instruction  in  the  use 
of  the  needle  was  thoroughly  imparted;  and  as 
soon  as  the  pupils  were  able  to  finish  a  gar- 
ment for  the  clothing-store,  they  were  encouraged 
by  receiving  a  just  payment. 

Now,  the  small,  lowly  room  of  the  widow  was 
brightened  with  comfort.  And  her  heart  was  too 
full  for  words,  when  her  little  girls  came  running 
from  school,  with  a  shout  of  joy,  the  eldest  one 
exclaiming : 

"  See,  mother,  see,  here  are  twenty  cents. 
Take  them,  and  buy  a  frock  for  the  baby.  They 
gave  them  to  me,  for  making  a  sailor's  gingham 
shirt,  strong  and  good.  My  teacher  says,  I  shall 
soon  sew  well  enough,  to  make  one  of  a  nicer 
kind,  for  which  I  am  to  receive  seventy-five 
cents.  Then,  I  will  help  pay  your  house-rent. 
O,  I  never  was  so  happy  in  my  life.  And  yet, 
1  could  not  help  crying  when  I  worked,  for  I  re- 
membered that  you  used  to  make  exactly  such 
shirts  for  dear  father ;  and  I  did  not  know  but 
the  man  for  whom  I  made  this,  might  be  lost  at 
sea,  and  never  come  back  to  his  home  any 
more." 


220  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

"Here  is  a  book,"  said  the  little  sister,  "which 
my  teacher  let  me  take  from  the  school  library 
to  bring  home,  and  read  to  you,  while  you  sit  at 
work.  And  she  is  so  good  and  kind  to  me, 
mother;  she  takes  as  much  pains  to  have  me 
learn,  as  if  we  were  ever  so  rich;  and  I  love  her 
dearly." 

"Blessings  on  her,"  said  the  widow,  through 
her  grateful  tears.  "Heaven's  blessing  on  the  So- 
ciety, and  on  every  lady  into  whose  heart  God 
has  put  it  to  help  the  desolate  poor,  through 
their  own  industry."  And  night  and  morning  she 
taught  her  kneeling  babes  the  prayer  of  gratitude 
for  their  benefactresses. 

Let  us  encourage  every  variety  of  effort  by 
which  our  sex  can  win  a  subsistence,  and  foster 
in  the  young  that  spirit  which  prefers  the  happy 
consciousness  of  being  useful,  to  any  form  of  in- 
dolent and  helpless  dependence?  In  our  bounty 
to  the  poor,  let  us  keep  in  mind  the  principle  of 
aiding  them  as  far  as  possible,  through  their  own 
exertions,  for  she  who  thus  studies  their  moral 
benefit,  elevates  them  in  the  scale  of  being,  and 
performs  an  acceptable  service  to  her  country  and 
to  her  God. 

Mothers,  speak  often  to  your  daughters  on 
these  subjects.  Instruct  them  in  the  economy  of 
charity.  Your  responsibility  comprises  both  earth 
and  heaven. 


OPINION   OF   WEALTH.  221 

There  are  many  works  from  writers  of  the 
present  day,  which  afford  valuable  hints  for  con- 
versation, on  the  subject  of  being  respectable  and 
happy  without  the  possession  of  wealth.  From 
your  own  observation,  you  can  illustrate  the  truth 
of  this  theory.  You  can  convince  them,  from  the 
page  of  history,  that  virtue,  and  talent,  and  the 
heart's  true  felicity,  may  exist  without  the  tinsel 
of  gold.  You  can  impress  on  them  from  a  Book 
Divine,  that  to  gain  the  whole  world,  would  not 
balance  one  sigh  of  a  lost  soul. 

Years  and  intercourse  with  mankind  will  soon 
enough  impress  the  lesson  of  pecuniary  acquisi- 
tion. You  need  not  post  in  advance  of  the  world, 
with  the  world's  lessons.  It  is  not  expected  that 
you  should  erect  the  "tables  of  the  money- 
changers, and  seats  for  those  who  sell  doves,"  in 
the  temple  of  those  hearts  which  might,  at  least 
for  a  few  of  their  tenderest  years,  be  consecrated 
to  "  Nature's  sweet  affections  and  to  God." 


19* 


222  LETTER3  TO  MOTHERS. 


LETTER    XYIII. 

HOSPITALITY. 

CHILDREN  are,  in  some  measure,  educated  by 
the  style  of  parental  hospitality.  They  are  natu- 
rally gregarious,  and  the  expansion  of  the  social 
principle  gives  them  pleasure.  They  receive  the 
strongest  impressions  through  their  senses,  and 
there  is  a  consent  of  the  senses  in  the  satisfac- 
tion which  awaits  the  coming  of  a  guest.  The 
cheerful  preparation  which  they  see,  the  agreeable 
additions  to  the  table,  the  putting  on  of  the  best 
robe,  the  smiling  face  of  the  welcomed  friend,  the 
kind  words  addressed  to  them,  cause  their  little 
hearts  to  swell  with  delight.  Neither  is  this 
sharing  of  their  good  things  with  others,  an  inert 
precept  in  moral  regimen.  It  fosters  a  simple 
form  of  benevolence,  and  helps  to  extirpate  those 
lesser  plants  of  selfishness,  which  are  prone  to  a 
quick  growth,  in  the  moist,  rich  soil  of  infancy. 

Children  sometimes  see  their  parents  extending 
the  rites  of  hospitality  to  the  sick  friend,  or  the 
sorrowful  stranger,  and  they  imbibe  that  class  of 
deeper  sympathies,  which  flow  forth  towards  the 


HOSPITALITY.  223 

homeless  and  the  poor.  Nor  are  the  lessons  of 
love,  to  their  race,  thus  learned,  of  little  value. 
The  happiness  which  they  feel  from  seeing  others 
happy,  is  better  than  that  which  they  derive  from 
solitary  acquisition.  The  pleasure  thus  reflected 
from  the  smile  of  a  guest,  is  one  of  the  rudi- 
ments of  benevolence. 

Permit  your  young  children,  therefore,  when- 
ever it  is  proper,  to  share  the  warmth  of  an  un- 
ceremonious hospitality.  For  this  reason,  as  well 
as  for  others  still  more  important,  be  strenuous 
to  secure  for  them  the  privileges  of  a  home.  The 
custom,  so  prevalent  in  our  larger  cities,  of  aban- 
doning housekeeping,  and  becoming  lodgers  either 
in  public  hotels,  or  private  families,  is  fraught 
with  evils.  When  such  an  arrangement  is  the 
result  of  necessity,  it  should  be  submitted  to,  like 
any  other  form  of  adversity.  But  if  parents  could, 
by  any  additional  economy,  or  increase  of  per- 
sonal exertion,  maintain  their  own  table,  and 
family  altar,  they  should  do  it  for  the  sake  of 
their  little  ones.  However  small  may  be  the  nest, 
where  their  new-fledged  offspring  are  nurtured, 
no  matter,  if  they  can  only  brood  over  it  with 
their  own  wing.  Under  the  roof  of  another,  the 
husband  and  father  can  neither  command  the  re- 
spect, or  exercise  the  authority,  which  are  his 
prerogatives,  nor  the  wife  exhibit  before  those 
who  fashion  themselves  after  her  model,  the  full 


224  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

beauty  and  energy  of  conjugal  and  maternal  ex- 
ample. But  especially  are  young  children  re- 
strained in  their  freedom  and  happiness,  and 
compelled  to  feel  somewhat  of  the  melancholy 
distrust  of  strangers  and  exiles.  Instead  of  being 
cheered  by  seeing  their  parents,  like  the  fixed 
stars,  diffusing  blessings  to  the  remotest  satellite, 
they  behold  them  like  wandering  planets,  seeking 
light  and  heat  from  others,  or  perhaps  like  com- 
ets, whose  true  rotation  has  never  been  calcu- 
lated, careering  through  and  perplexing  other 


It  is  indeed  most  desirable  that  little  children 
should  enjoy  the  comforts  of  a  home,  and  share 
the  cordial  of  true  hospitality.  But  it  is  almost 
equally  desirable,  that  they  should  be  sheltered 
from  that  ostentatious  and  heartless  intercourse 
which  fashion  authorizes.  Every  entrance  of  it 
under  their  own  roof,  interferes  with  their  ac- 
commodation and  quiet.  Parents  and  domestics 
are  absorbed  in  preparations  which  to  them  are 
mysterious.  The  access  of  ornaments,  the  array 
of  fashionable  garniture,  the  heaping  together  of 
luxuries,  are  not  for  them.  The  attention  of 
those  whom  they  love,  is  turned  away,  or  mo- 
nopolized by  objects  which  they  cannot  under- 
stand. They  shrink  back  to  their  nurseries,  dis- 
pirited and  forsaken.  Perhaps  they  expend  upon 
each  other  their  heightened  consciousness  of  un- 


HOSPITALITY.  225 

happiness,    while   the   ruling   minds    that   should 
regulate  their  tempers  are  elsewhere. 

Yet  this  is  but  the  lighter  shade  of  the  evil. 
Imagine  them  exposed,  as  it  sometime  happens, 
to  the  excitement  of  the  scene.  If  the  party  is 
not  very  large,  mother  consents  that  they  should 
just  appear.  Now,  here  is  a  new  and  wonderful 
happiness.  The  little  casuists  are  busy  to  know 
in  what  it  consists.  Varied  and  splendid  cos- 
tumes strike  their  eye.  Ah !  fine  dress  must  be 
happiness.  Will  they  henceforth  be  more  content 
with  their  own  simple  garb,  or  more  likely  to  es- 
teem humble  virtue,  in  plain  attire?  They  see 
many  rich  viands.  These  are  surely  a  species 
of  happiness.  Their  appetites  are  solicited,  either 
to  be  repelled,  or  to  be  indulged  at  the  expense 
of  health  and  simplicity  of  taste.  If  they  have 
been  adorned  and  exhibited  for  the  occasion,  they 
will  be  familiarized  to  the  dangerous  nutriment 
of  flattery.  "  How  pretty !"  "  What  beautiful  crea- 
tures !"  will  be  the  exclamations  of  the  unthink- 
ing, or  of  the  sycophants  who  wish  to  ingratiate 
themselves  with  the  parents.  The  little  wonder- 
ing heart  lifts  up  its  valve,  and  receives  the  stim- 
ulant. Its  humility  and  chastened  resolves  are 
put  to  flight.  Affectation  and  admiration  of  self, 
prematurely  enter.  The  tare  is  not  only  among 
the  wheat,  but  before  it.  If  the  little  beings  have 
not  forfeited  their  frankness,  ten  to  one  but  you 


226  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

may  hear,  in  words,  as  well  as  in  conduct,  "I 
don't  love  to  do  as  I  am  told,  nor  to  get  my  les- 
son, and  it  is  no  matter,  for  I  am  a  pretty  and 
a  beautiful  creature." 

But  the  principle  of  display  is  not  more  de- 
structive to  the  natural  and  happy  simplicity  of 
childhood,  than  the  routine  of  fashionable  visiting 
to  the  welfare  of  true  hospitality.  The  more  ar- 
tificial and  ostentatious  we  become,  the  farther 
we  recede  from  that  hospitality  which  Reason 
sanctions  as  a  virtue,  and  the  voice  of  Inspiration 
enjoins  as  a  duty.  In  ancient  times  it  nourished 
like  a  vigorous  plant.  Beneath  its  branches  the 
traveller  found  shelter  from  the  noon-day  sun, 
and  covert  from  the  storm. 

Yet  in  proportion  as  nations  have  advanced 
in  refinement,  they  have  neglected  its  culture. 
They  may,  indeed,  have  hedged  it  about  with 
ceremonies,  or  encumbered  it  with  trappings. 
But  its  verdure  has  been  suffered  to  fade,  and  its 
root  to  perish.  Like  the  stripling  shepherd,  it 
has  drooped  beneath  the  gorgeous  armour  of 
royalty.  Among  the  smooth  stones  of  the  brook, 
it  would  better  have  found  the  defence  that  it 
needed. 

Under  the  oak  at  Mamre,  it  sat  with  the  patri- 
arch, and  entertained  angels.  It  lingered  amid 
oriental  climes,  as  in  a  congenial  atmosphere, 
and  has  never  utterly  forsaken  the  tent  of  the 


HOSPITALITY.  227 

wandering  Arab.  With  a  cowled  head,  it  shroud- 
ed itself  in  cloisters,  and  for  ages  neither  pilgrim 
or  mendicant  touched  the  bell  at  the  convent 
gate  in  vain.  The  chosen  people  in  the  infancy 
of  their  nation,  revered  its  injunctions,  for  they 
were  twined  with  the  most  tender  and  thrilling 
recollections,  and  fortified  by  a  command  from 
Jehovah :  "  The  Lord  our  God  loveth  the  stran- 
ger; love  ye,  therefore,  the  stranger,  for  ye  were 
strangers  in  the  land  of  Egypt." 

The  Moslem,  amid  his  ferocity  and  despotism, 
regards  the  rites  of  hospitality.  He  expresses  his 
sense  of  the  solemnity  of  its  requisitions,  by  the 
proverb  anciently  incorporated  with  his  language, 
"when  the  stranger  saith  alas!  the  heart  of  Allah 
is  wounded."  Some  uncivilized  nations  have  of- 
fered a  rude  homage  at  its  shrine.  The  roving 
tribes  of  the  North  American  forests  spread  their 
only  blanket  for  the  stranger's  bed.  They  set 
before  him  the  last  morsel  of  food,  though  their 
households  are  in  danger  of  famine.  When  the 
Old  World  paid  its  first  visit  to  the  New,  the 
Mexicans  saluted  the  men  of  Spain  with  clouds 
of  fragrant  incense,  not  knowing  how  soon  it 
was  to  be  quenched  in  their  own  blood.  The 
modern  South  American  Republicks  still  welcome 
their  guests  with  the  simple  offering  of  a  fresh 
flower. 

Most  of  the  refined  nations  of  our  own  times 


228  LETTERS  TO  MOTHERS. 

confide  the  usages  of  hospitality  to  the  keeping 
of  the  gentler  sex.  Especially,  in  this  new  West- 
ern World,  the  household  gods,  those  Lares  and 
Penates  of.  the  Romans,  are  cordially  entrusted 
to  our  care.  Elevated  as  we  now  are,  by  intel- 
lectual advantages,  beyond  all  previous  example, 
it  might  rationally  be  expected  that  a  degree  of 
lustre  and  dignity,  heretofore  unknown,  would 
dignify  social  intercourse.  Still,  we  see  it  very 
prominently  identified  with  the  pleasures  of  the 
table.  To  make  the  satisfactions  of  the  palate 
the  principal  tests  of  hospitality,  seems  to  accord 
with  a  less  refined  state  of  society,  or  to  augur 
some  destitution  of  intellectual  resource. 

Would  our  ladies  set  the  example  of  less  elabo- 
rate entertainments,  of  less  exuberant  feasting, 
more  room  would  be  left  for  the  mental  powers 
to  expand,  and  the  feelings  to  seek  interchange, 
in  conversation.  At  least,  they  might  save  their 
husband's  purses,  their  servants'  tempers,  and 
themselves  a  world  of  fatigue.  Let  them  recol- 
lect that  it  is  but  a  relic  of  barbarism  which 
they  cherish,  when  they  allure  their  guests  to  in- 
dulgence of  appetite,  perhaps  to  hurtful  excess. 
For  temptations  of  the  palate,  though  they  may 
be  multiplied  by  the  hospitable  lady,  out  of  pure 
benevolence,  cannot  be  yielded  to  with  impunity, 
by  all  whom  her  invitations  thus  expose.  Her 
skill  in  culinary  compounds  may  wound  the 


HOSPITALITY.  229 

health  of  those  whom  she  best  loves.  It  would 
be  but  a  sorry  compliment  for  the  dyspeptick 
husband  to  murmur  forth,  like  him  of  Eden,  his 
sad  extenuation,  "the  woman  whom  thou  gavest 
to  be  with  me,  gave  me  and  I  did  eat;"  or  for 
the  more  indignant  guest,  when  ^seeking  his  phy- 
sician, to  exclaim,  "the  serpent  beguiled  me,  and 
I  did  eat." 

It  was  formerly  too  much  the  custom  to  press, 
among  the  pledges  of  hospitality,  the  draught  that 
inebriates.  More  light,  and  a  better  creed,  have 
modified  this  practice.  But  still  it  is  not  extinct. 
If  it  be  asked,  why  the  Christian  inhabitants  of  a 
most  Christian  land  should  choose  as  the  inter- 
preter of  their  hospitality  an  usage  more  danger- 
ous than  the  sword  of  Damocles,  there  is  no  bet- 
ter answer  than  "because  it  is  the  fashion." 
The  cup  will  not,  indeed,  mark  him  who  par- 
takes, with  its  immediate  poison;  but  may  it  not 
foster  what  shall  rankle  in  his  veins,  with  fatal 
contagion,  threatening  not  only  the  body,  but  the 
soul? 

When  philosophers  have  inquired  how  woman, 
whose  happiness  and  safety  are  so  deeply  involved 
in  the  purity  of  those  around,  could  thus  dare  to 
trouble  the  fountains  of  temperance  and  of  virtue, 
the  only  reply  has  been,  "it  is  the  fashion? 
Holy  men,  the  guardians  of  God's  altar,  have  de- 
manded, why  she  hath  been  thus  faithless  to  her 
20 


230  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

trust.  And  she  hath  answered,  "  it  is  the  fash- 
ion" But  when  the  garniture  is  stripped  from 
all  earthly  things,  when  that  dread  assembly  is 
convened,  where  none  will  dare  to  plead  the  om- 
nipotence of  fashion,  when  a  voice  from  the 
Throne  of  the  Eternal  questions  of  the  plague- 
spot  upon  the  soul  of  the  guest,  the  brother,  the 
husband,  or  the  child,  what  shall  the  answer  be? 


RESPECT    TO    AGE.  231 


LETTER    XIX. 

RESPECT    TO    AGE. 

IT  is  one  proof  of  a  good  education,  and  of 
refinement  of  feeling,  to  respect  antiquity.  Some- 
times it  seems  the  dictate  of  unsophisticated  na- 
ture. We  venerate  a  column  which  has  with- 
stood the  ravages  of  time.  We  contemplate  with 
reverence  the  ivy-crowned  castle,  through  which 
the  winds  of  centuries  make  melancholy  musick. 
We  gather  with  care  the  fragments  of  the  early 
history  of  nations,  which,  however  mouldering  or 
disjointed,  have  escaped  the  shipwreck  of  time. 
There  are  some  who  spare  no  expense  in  col- 
lecting coins  and  relics,  which  rust  has  penetra- 
ted, or  change  of  customs  rendered  valueless,  save 
as  they  have  within  them  the  voice  of  other 
years.  Why,  then,  should  we  regard  with  indif- 
ference the  living  remnants  of  a  former  age, 
through  whose  experience  we  might  both  be  en- 
riched and  made  better? 

The  sympathy  of  a  kind  heart  prompts  respect 
to  the  aged.  Their  early  and  dear  friends  have 
departed.  They  stand  alone,  with  heads  whitened 


232  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

and  vigour  diminished.  They  have  escaped  the 
deluge  that  overwhelmed  their  cotemporaries.  But 
they  have  not  passed  unscathed  through  the 
water-floods  of  time.  Tender  and  marked  atten- 
tions are  due  to  those  weary  voyagers.  They 
ought  not  to  be  left  as  the  denizens  of  some  soli- 
tary isle,  where  love  never  visits,  and  which  the 
gay  vessels  newly  launched  on  the  sea  of  life, 
pass  by,  with  flaunting  streamers,  and  regard  not. 
The  tribute  of  reverence  which  is  their  due,  adds 
as  much  to  the  honour  of  him  who  pays,  as  to 
the  happiness  of  those  who  receive  it. 

Respect  to  Age,  is  best  impressed  on  children 
by  the  example  of  their  parents,  who  should  daily 
exhibit  a  transcript  of  the  reverent  deportment 
they  require  them  to  evince.  If  then'  own  pa- 
rents are  living,  they  have  the  best  of  all  possi- 
ble opportunities  to  teach  that  kind  observance 
of  word,  look,  and  manner,  that  assiduity  to  pro- 
mote comfort,  that  tenderness  in  concealing  infirm- 
ity, that  skill  to  anticipate  the  unspoken  wish, 
that  zeal  to  repay  some  small  part  of  the  count- 
less debt  incurred  in  life's  earliest  years,  which 
they  themselves  would  desire  to  receive,  should 
they  live  to  become  old. 

How  often  do  we  see  disrespect  to  parents, 
visited  with  evils  in  this  life.  We  might  infer  it 
from  the  language  of  the  fifth  commandment, 
which,  in  promising  a  reward  to  those  who 


RESPECT    TO   AGE.  233 

honour  their  parents,  implies  that  the  punishment 
of  those  who  withhold  that  honour  will  be  equal- 
ly palpable.  The  natural  progress  of  events  leads 
also  to  such  a  result.  From  a  principle  of  imita- 
tion, the  child  frames  his  manners  on  the  model 
which  his  parents  sanction.  Their  mode  of  treat- 
ment to  their  own  parents  is  perpetuated  in  him. 
The  neglect  or  reverence  which  their  daily  con- 
duct exhibits,  becomes  incorporated  with  his  own 
habits  and  character;  baleful  dispositions  repro- 
duce themselves :  so  that  what  is  counted  as  a 
judgment,  may  be  but  the  spontaneous  action  of 
a  bitter  root,  bearing  its  own  fruit.  Yet  it  is  not 
surprising  that  the  Almighty,  who  has  not  utterly 
disjoined  the  thread  of  retribution  from  the  web 
of  this  brief  life,  should  punish,  visibly  and  fear- 
fully, the  sin  of  disobedience  to  parents.  Without 
dwelling,  at  this  time,  on  so  heinous  a  dereliction 
of  a  most  sacred  duty,  let  us  turn  to  the  interest- 
ing subject  of  reverence  to  age. 

The  universal  opinion  of  those  who  scrutinize 
the  state  of  society  in  our  country,  is,  that  in 
the  treatment  of  the  aged,  there  is  a  diminution 
of  respect.  Even  the  authority  of  parents,  and 
teachers,  seems  to  be  borne  with  uneasiness,  and 
to  be  early  shaken  off.  Those,  whose  memory 
comprises  two  generations,  assert,  that  in  these 
points,  without  doubt,  the  former  days  were  bet- 
ter than  these. 
20* 


234  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

Some  have  supposed  this  change  naturally  to 
arise  from  the  spirit  and  institutions  of  a  repub- 
lick.  Equality  of  rank,  destroys  many  of  the 
barriers  of  adventitious  distinction.  But  the 
hoary  head,  when  crowned  with  goodness  and 
piety,  is  an  order  of  nobility,  established  by  God 
himself.  It  marks  a  stage  of  ripened  excellence, 
ready  for  admission  among  the  "just  made  per- 
fect." If  deficiency  in  duty  to  those  who  have 
attained  such  illustrious  distinction,  is  so  obvious, 
as  to  mark  the  character  of  a  whole  generation, 
it  must  be  traced  to  the  structure  of  families, 
rather  than  to  the  form  of  our  government. 

Reverence  for  Age,  being  a  divine  command, 
should  form  an  inseparable  part  of  the  earliest 
Christian  education.  It  must  be  inculcated  with 
the  rudiments  of  religion,  when  the  mind  is  in 
its  forming  state.  It  is  inexplicable  that  parents 
should  neglect  to  impress  on  their  children  the 
solemn  injunction,  "  Thou  shalt  rise  up  before 
the  hoary  head,  and  honour  the  face  of  the  old 
man,  and  fear  thy  God:  I  am  the  Lord."  The 
command  derives  force  from  the  situation  in 
which  it  is  placed,  guarded  by  the  majesty  of  Him 
from  whom  it  emanates,  and  linked  with  the 
duty  which  man  owes  to  his  Maker,  and  his 
Judge. 

It  is  rather  a  surprising  fact,  that  some  heath- 
en nations  should  have  been  more  exemplary  in 


RESPECT    TO    AGE.  235 

their  treatment  of  the  aged,  than  those  who  en- 
joy moral  arid  religious  culture:  that  the  dim 
teachings  of  nature  should  be  more  operative 
among  ignorant  men,  than  the  "clear  shining  of 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness"  upon  those  who  be- 
lieve the  gospel. 

The  Spartans,  so  proudly  adverse  to  every 
form  of  delicacy  and  refinement,  paid  marked 
deference  to  age,  especially  when  combined  with 
wisdom.  A  fine  tribute  to  their  observance  of 
this  virtue,  "was  rendered  them  by  the  old  man, 
who,  having  been  refused  a  seat  in  a  crowded 
assembly  at  Athens,  saw  the  rougher  Lacedemo- 
nians rise,  in  an  equally  dense  throng,  and  rever- 
ently make  room  "for  him:  "the  Athenians  know 
what  is  right,  but  the  Spartans  practise  it." 

The  wandering  sons  of  the  American  forests 
shewed  the  deepest  respect  to  years.  Beneath 
each  lowly  roof,  at  every  council-fire,  the  young 
listened  reverently  to  the  voice  of  the  aged.  In 
their  most  important  exigences,  the  boldest  war- 
riors, the  haughtiest  chieftains,  consulted  the 
hoary-headed  men,  and  waited  for  their  words. 
Their  deportment  illustrated  the  assertion  of 
the  friend  of  Job,  "I  am  young,  and  ye  are 
old;  therefore  I  was  afraid  to  show  you  my 
opinion." 

The  reverent  regard  accorded  to  length  of  days 
by  tb.e  rude  natives  of  these  western  wilds,  re- 


236  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

sembled  in  some  measure  that  which  was  evinced 
by  the  chosen  people  of  old ;  as  if  those  wander- 
ing tribes  preserved  in  their  own  habitations  the 
smothered  embers  of  the  fires  swept  from  the 
altars  of  Zion.  Dwelling,  as  we  do,  in  the  re- 
gions from  whence  they  were  exiled;  exhuming 
with  our  plough-shares  the  very  bones  from  their 
fathers'  sepulchres;  uttering  daily,  in  the  names  of 
our  rivers  and  mountains,  the  dialect  of  a  race 
driven  away  as  an  exhalation  when  the  sun  aris- 
eth,  it  would  surely  have  been  well,  that,  in  this 
one  respect,  their  spirit  had  remained  among  us, 
or,  at  least,  that  their  example  had  not  been  to 
our  reproach. 

If  we  admit  that  there  is  a  general  declension 
in  duty  to  the  aged,  and  if  it  must  be  traced  to 
error  in  domestic  culture,  heads  of  families  are 
responsible  for  the  evil. 

Mothers,  is  riot  much  of  the  fault  at  our  own 
doors  ?  If  so,  where  is  the  remedy  ?  Must  it 
not  be  sought  in  the  power  of  early  instruction, 
and  in  the  influence  of  example?  Is  there  as 
fair  a  prospect  of  success  in  admonishing  those 
who  have  been  long  in  error,  as  in  forming  cor- 
rect habits  for  the  yet  uncontaminate  1 

Begin,  then,  with  your  little  ones.  Require 
them  to  rise  and  offer  a  seat,  when  an  old  person 
enters  the  room ;  never  to  interrupt  them  when 
speaking,  but  to  solicit  their  advice,  and  reverence 


RESPECT    TO    AGE.  237 

their  opinions.  You  will  say  that  these  are  sim- 
ple rules.  Yes.  But  the  lofty  tree  springs  from 
a  diminutive  germ.  Show  them  the  reason  for 
even  these  simple  rules,  in  the  book  of  God. 
Consider  the  slightest  disrespect  to  aged  relatives, 
or  any  person  advanced  in  years,  as  a  fault  of 
magnitude.  If  you  have  yourself  a  parent,  or  a 
surviving  friend  of  that  parent,  make  your  own 
respectful  deportment  a  mirror  by  which  they 
can  fashion  their  own.  Confirm  these  habits, 
until  they  obtain  a  permanent  root  in  principle, 
and  determine  that  your  own  offspring  shall  not 
swell  the  number  of  those  who  disregard  the 
divine  precept  to  "honour  the  hoary  head." 

I  was  acquainted  with  the  father  and  mother 
of  a  large  family,  who,  on  the  entrance  of  their 
own  aged  parents,  rose  and  received  them  with 
every  mark  of  respect,  and  also  treated  their  co- 
temporaries  as  the  most  distinguished  guests. 
Their  children,  beholding  continually  this  defer- 
ence shown  to  the  aged,  made  it  a  part  of  their 
own  conduct.  Before  they  were  capable  of  com- 
prehending the  reason  on  which  it  was  founded, 
they  copied  it  from  the  ever-open  page  of  paren- 
tal example.  The  beautiful  habit  grew  with 
their  growth.  It  was  rewarded  by  the  approba- 
tion of  all  who  witnessed  it.  Especially  was  it 
cheering  to  the  hearts  of  those  who  received  it, 
and  who  found  the  chill  and  solitude  of  the  vale 


238  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

of  years,  alleviated  by  the  tender  love  that  walked 
by  their  side. 

I  saw  the  same  children  when  their  own  pa- 
rents became  old.  This  hallowed  principle,  early 
incorporated  with  their  character,  bore  a  rich 
harvest  for  those  who  had  sown  the  seed.  The 
honour  which  from  infancy  they  had  shewn  to 
the  hoary  head,  mingling  with  the  fervour  of 
filial  affection,  produced  a  delightful  combination; 
one  which,  even  to  the  casual  observer,  had  an 
echo  of  that  voice  from  heaven,  "train  up  a 
child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  when  he  is 
old,  he  will  not  depart  from  it." 


HAPPINESS.  239 

'  •  W  •&*«. 


LETTER    XX. 

HAPPINESS. 

IT  was  a  pleasant  theory  of  an  ancient  musi- 
cian, that  the  "soul  was  but  a  harmony."  How- 
ever erroneous  the  philosophy  may  be,  it  fur- 
nishes a  profitable  hint.  The  habit  of  eliciting 
from  the  discord  of  opposing  circumstances  a 
song  of  praise,  is  of  inestimable  value.  It  was 
said  of  Klopstock,  the  German  poet,  that  his 
"mind  maintained  a  perpetual  spring,  a  never- 
failing  succession  of  beauty  and  of  fragrance;  if 
the  rose  wounded  him,  he  gathered  the  lily;  if 
the  lily  died  on  his  bosom,  he  cherished  the 
myrtle."  Such  affinity  had  this  temperament 
with  buoyancy  of  spirits,  and  a  perpetual  flow 
of  the  freshness  of  life,  that  even  when  the 
snows  of  four-score  years  had  settled  upon  his 
brow,  he  was  designated  by  the  epithet  of  the 
"youth  forever? 

This  harmony  of  our  nature  with  the  tasks 
that  are  appointed  it,  is  not  only  peculiarly 
graceful  in  woman,  but  in  a  measure  necessary 
to  the  complete  fulfilment  of  her  destiny.  In 


240  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

her  capacity  of  wife  and  mother,  she  is  the 
keeper  of  the  happiness  of  others.  Can  she  be 
worthy  of  such  high  trust,  unless  she  is  able  to 
be  the  keeper  of  her  own?  She  is  expected  to 
be  a  comforter.  But  how  can  this  be,  unless  the 
materials  of  her  own  character  are  well-balanced 
and  combined?  She  is  expected  to  add  bright- 
ness to  the  fire-side.  Can  she  do  this,  unless  the 
principle  of  light  is  inherent?  She  is  expected 
to  be  as  a  sun-beam  on  the  cloud,  the  bow  of 
promise  amid  the  storms  of  life.  Therefore,  the 
foundation  of  her  own  happiness  must  be  above 
the  region  of  darkness  and  tempest. 

The  desire  of  happiness  is  implanted  in  all  cre- 
ated beings.  Its  capacities  are  capable  of  cultiva- 
tion and  extension,  beyond  what  at  first  view 
would  be  imagined.  The  means  by  which  it  is 
attained  and  imparted,  should  be  studied  as  a 
science,  especially  by  that  sex  whose  ministry  is 
among  those  affections  which  make  or  mar  the 
music  of  the  soul. 

A  mind  ever  open  to  the  accession  of  know- 
ledge, may  be  numbered  among  the  elements  of 
happiness.  The  free  action  of  intellect,  as  well 
as  the  due  exercise  of  the  muscular  powers,  pro- 
motes the  health  and  harmony  of  the  system. 

The  cultivation  of  friendship,  and  of  the  social 
affections,  should  be  assiduously  regarded.  If,  ac- 
cording to  the  definition  of  an  ancient  philoso- 


HAPPINESS.  241 

pher,  "happiness  be  the  sharing  of  pleasure  and 
pain  with  another,"  it  is  less  important  to  try  to 
escape  the  evils  of  this  life  of  trial,  than  to  learn 
the  art  of  dividing  them. 

A  habit  of  looking  on  the  bright  side  of  charac- 
ter, and  of  finding  excuses  for  error,  is  conducive 
to  happiness.  It  is  a  modification  of  benevolence, 
which  every  day  gives  opportunity  to  exercise. 
It  is  of  the  same  kindred  with  that  spirit  of  piety 
which  expatiates  on  the  blessings  of  providence, 
and  delights  to  select  themes  of  discourse  from 
those  mercies  which  are  "new  every  morning, 
and  fresh  every  moment." 

Enlarged  views  of  mankind  lead  to  forbear- 
ance. The  mind  that  comes  in  contact  with  few 
objects,  gradually  learns  to  view  them  through  a 
contracted  medium,  to  magnify  their  relative  im- 
portance, and  to  fasten  upon  their  leading  points 
with  avidity,  or  acrimony.  Thus,  the  arrival  of 
a  stranger  in  a  small  village,  is  an  object  of 
eager  attention.  His  appearance  is  described,  his 
business  canvassed.  In  a  metropolis,  the  throng 
pass  on  their  several  ways  unheeded.  In  seclu- 
ded neighbourhoods,  the  movements  of  every  in- 
dividual are  discussed,  his  motives  conjectured, 
his  mistakes  "  set  in  a  note-book."  But  the  mind, 
accustomed  to  a  wider  range,  perceives  imperfec- 
tion to  be  the  lot  of  all,  and  expecting  in  the 
purest  ore,  some  alloy,  learns  not  bitterly  to 
21 


242  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

condemn  infirmities  of  which  it  is  itself  a  par- 
taker. 

Instruct  the  young,  under  your  care,  not  to 
adopt  the  erroneous  opinion  of  some  novices,  that 
unless  they  censure  the  faults  of  others,  they  may 
be  supposed  unable  to  detect  them.  Tenderness 
of  heart,  is  no  proof  of  blindness  of  mind,  any 
more  than  liberality  of  opinion  implies  deficiency 
of  intellect.  It  will  often  be  found  a  more  acute 
exercise  of  discernment,  to  discover  the  excellen- 
ces than  the  foibles  of  those  who  surround  them. 
Teach  them,  therefore,  as  a  means  of  happiness, 
not  severely  to  condemn  the  faults  they  perceive; 
to  seek  rather  for  opportunities  to  admire,  or  to 
excuse,  than  to  blame ;  and  often  to  turn  the 
meek  glance  inward  upon  their  own  hearts. 

From  the  same  desire,  to  promote  their  own 
happiness,  teach  them  patience.  Childhood  has 
need  of  it.  The  quiet,  waiting  spirit,  is  usually 
uncongenial  to  its  vivacity.  In  its  happiest  state, 
it  has  trials,  which,  though  to  us,  may  seem  scarce- 
ly to  deserve  the  name,  yet  are  sufficiently  great, 
in  proportion  to  the  strength  given  to  sustain 
them.  The  texture  of  the  temper  is  often  se- 
verely tested  among  companions,  and  at  school. 
Arm  your  children  against  these  exigences,  that 
they  need  not  add  to  unavoidable  evils,  the  re- 
volting of  an  unruled  spirit.  If  they  sometimes 
encounter  blame,  when  their  intentions  are  cor- 


HAPPINESS.  243 

rect,  teach  them,  that  this  is  not  in  reality  so 
hard  to  bear,  as  at  first  it  appears.  For  those 
who  have  the  support  of  an  approving  conscience, 
can  enter  into  that  pavilion,  and  be  comforted 
amid  the  "  strife  of  tongues."  If  they  are  blamed 
for  their  faults,  they  surely  ought  not  to  com- 
plain, since  this  is  but  the  award  of  justice. 

Teach  them,  by  your  own  example,  how  to 
endure  trials  with  patience ;  how  to  forget  them 
in  the  contemplation  of  higher  things ;  how  to  re- 
pay them  with  Christian  kindness.  The  great 
Boerhaave,  who  notwithstanding  his  goodness  had 
many  enemies,  said,  "I  will  never  repeat  their 
calumnies.  They  are  sparks,  which,  if  you  do 
not  blow  them,  will  go  out  of  themselves."  Early 
fortify  your  pupils  against  those  causes  that  are 
prone  to  disturb  their  serenity,  and  require  of 
them  as  a  part  of  their  daily  duty,  to  form  the 
habit  of  being  happy. 

The  most  disinterested  have  the  best  materials 
for  happiness.  They  are  seen  forgetting  their 
own  sorrows,  that  they  may  console  those  of 
others.  May  it  not,  therefore,  be  assumed  that 
the  subjugation  of  self  is  happiness  ? 

The  lineaments  of  cheerfulness  are  important. 
A  smiling  brow,  and  a  pleasant-toned  voice,  are 
adjuncts  of  happiness.  A  wife  is  not  always 
aware  how  much  her  husband  may  be  thus 
cheered,  when  he  returns  harrassed  by  the  per- 


244  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

plexities  of  business,  perhaps  soured  by  inter- 
course with  harsh  and  unfriendly  spirits.  She 
should  spare  to  add  to  his  secret  burdens  the  ir- 
ritation of  her  own  repinings.  Household  incon- 
veniences, though  they  may  be  great  to  her,  are 
apt  to  appear  to  him  as  the  "  small  dust  of  the 
balance."  It  is  not  wise  to  choose  them  as  the 
subjects  of  discourse,  except  where  his  counsel 
or  decision  are  imperatively  needed.  It  is  sweet 
to  a  wife  to  feel  that  she  is  regarded  as 

"  The  light  and  musick  of  a  happy  home. 
It  was  her  smile  that  made  the  house  so  gay, 
Her  voice  that  made  it  eloquent  with  joy ; 
Her  presence  peopled  it.     Her  very  tread 
Had  life  and  gladness  in  it." 

But  if  the  lineaments  of  happiness  are  so  beau- 
tiful in  a  wife,  they  are  still  more  indispensable 
to  a  mother.  The  child  opens  the  door  of  its 
heart  to  the  kind  tone,  the  smiling  brow,  the  eye 
reflecting  the  joy  within.  Especially  while  en- 
gaged in  teaching  her  little  ones,  let  the  mother 
preserve  every  symbol  of  cheerfulness:  the  mild 
manner,  the  gentle  word,  the  tender  caress. 
Love  and  knowledge,  entering  together,  form 
a  happy  and  hallowed  alliance.  We  are  scarcely 
aware  how  much  little  children  admire  pleasant 


"My  children,"    said   a  widowed  father,    "our 
circle  has  been  long  desolate.    I  hope  ere  long 


HAPPINESS.  245 

to  be  able  to  present  you  with  a  new  mother. 
You  must  all  promise  me  to  love  her."  Plea- 
sure was  visible  on  every  countenance.  A  new 
mother!  It  was  a  delightful  idea  to  their  af- 
fectionate hearts.  They  shouted  forth  their  joy. 
Soon  one  of  the  most  favoured  of  the  number, 
a  boy  of  a  sweet  spirit,  climbed  his  father's  knee. 
"Please  to  choose  for  us  a  mother  who  will 
laugh.  And  we  would  all  like  it  well,  if  you 
would  bring  us  home  one  that  knows  how  to 
play?  There  spoke  forth  the  free,  happy  nature 
of  childhood. 

Christians  ought  to  be  happy,  and,  being  so, 
should  make  it  visible.  The  words  and  example 
of  our  Saviour  convey  this  lesson.  "When  ye 
fast,  be  not  of  a  sad  countenance."  If  even  the 
penitential  parts  of  our  religion  do  not  allow  this 
demeanour,  can  faith,  and  hope,  and  joy,  re- 
quire it? 

Every  woman,  in  advancing  the  happiness  of 
her  family,  should  look  beyond  the  gratification 
of  the  present  moment,  and  consult  their  ultimate 
improvement.  She  should  require  all  the  mem- 
bers of  her  household  to  bear  their  part  towards 
this  end.  The  little  child,  too  young  to  contri- 
bute aught  beside,  may  bring  the  gift  of  a  smile, 
the  charm  of  sweet  manners.  The  kiss  of  the 
rose-lipped  babe  enters  into  the  account.  The 
elder  children  should  select  from  their  studies,  or 
21* 


246  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

from  the  books  they  are  perusing,  some  portion  to 
relate,  which  will  administer  to  general  informa- 
tion or  rational  amusement.  All,  according  to 
their  means,  should  be  taught  to  swell  the  stock 
of  happiness. 

The  present  age  is  rich  ill  devices  to  promote 
and  diversify  fire-side  enjoyment.  Guides  for 
drawing,  juvenile  musick,  cabinets  of  natural  his- 
tory, sports  that  keep  study  in  view,  beautiful 
books,  combining  knowledge  with  amusement, 
abound  and  multiply.  Parents  should  zealously 
take  part  in  these  with  their  children.  They 
need  not  fear  a  loss  of  dignity.  Whatever  ren- 
ders home  rationally  happy,  and  quickens  the  lit- 
tle footsteps  that  turn  towards  it,  is  a  branch  of 
political  wisdom,  as  well  as  of  paternal  duty. 

I  could  wish  that  domestic  anniversaries  were 
more  regarded.  They  furnish  rallying  points  for 
the  hope  and  love  of  childhood:  pictured  scenes, 
where  memory  may  fondly  linger  in  future  years, 
or  in  a  far-off  clime.  The  birth-day  of  a  parent, 
or  a  grand-parent,  of  a  brother,  a  sister,  or  a  fa- 
voured domestic,  might  be  made  seasons  of  le- 
gitimate and  cordial  gratulation.  They  might 
cause  the  blood  to  course  more  briskly  through 
the  bounding  veins  of  our  children,  as  flowery 
spots  by  the  way-side,  licensed  seasons  of  seeking 
the  happiness  of  others,  rather  than  of  their  own. 
The  preparation  of  simple  gifts,  exercises  both 


HAPPINESS.  247 

their  ingenuity,  their  judgment,  and  their  affec- 
tions. Their  little  secret  consultations  on  such 
subjects,  and  the  rich  pleasure  they  feel  in  sur- 
prising some  dear  one  with  an  unexpected  gift, 
should  be  respected.  As  far  as  possible,  these 
gifts  should  be  the  production  of  their  own 
hands,  or  the  purchase  of  their  earnings.  The 
latter  result  is  not  so  difficult  as  might  be  ima- 
gined. There  are  many  kinds  of  needle-work, 
and  of  domestic  occupation,  for  which  a  mother 
might  feel  it  both  pleasant  and  proper  to  compen- 
sate her  daughters.  Thus  she  might  aid  in  con- 
firming habits  of  industry,  while  she  supplied  the 
aliment  for  tokens  of  friendship,  and  deeds  of 
charity. 

A  mother  once  told  me,  that  from  the  time  her 
little  girl  first  was  able  to  hem  a  handkerchief 
neatly,  she  had  allowed  her  a  regular  price  for 
whatever  she  had  done  for  the  family.  She  com- 
menced a  little  book,  in  which  she  taught  her  to 
record  her  receipts  and  expenditures,  with  mer- 
cantile punctuality;  and  perhaps,  this  laid  the 
foundation  of  an  accuracy  in  accounts,  and  ca- 
pacity for  business,  which  distinguished  her  when 
she  became  a  woman.  Having  an  affectionate 
disposition,  she  made  a  list  of  the  birth-days,  not 
only  of  her  immediate  relatives,  and  the  members 
of  the  household,  but  those  of  her  pastor,  her 
teachers,  and  her  most  intimate  friends.  At  the 


248  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

return  of  these  anniversaries,  they  were  often  de- 
lighted to  receive  from  her  an  affectionate  note, 
or  some  article  of  her  own  manufacture,  or  a 
book  purchased  from  the  purse,  into  which  she 
never  put  her  hand  without  a  pleasant  conscious- 
ness that  the  contents  were  the  fruits  of  her  own 
industry,  and  would  impart  happiness  to  those 
whom  she  loved. 

A  man  of  wealth  once  allotted  a  portion  of 
his  ample  garden  to  his  young  sons.  They  were 
to  cultivate  it  as  they  pleased,  with  a  right  to 
ask  the  advice  of  the  gardener,  but  not  to  claim 
his  personal  assistance.  For  the  sallads  which 
they  proudly  brought  to  the  table,  the  strawber- 
ries that  enriched  the  dessert,  the  ears  of  corn 
gathered  by  their  own  hands  into  the  garner,  they 
received  a  fair  payment.  To  induce  habits  of 
punctuality  and  exactness,  their  father  required 
them  to  keep  an  account  of  every  production, 
with  the  correspondent  dates,  and  to  present  him 
a  bill,  in  due  form,  at  the  close  of  their  harvest- 
season.  At  receiving  the  annual  amount,  their 
first  pleasure  was  to  allow  their  little  sister  an 
equal  portion  with  themselves.  The  remainder 
was  strictly  their  own,  but  with  an  understanding 
that  it  was  not  to  be  expended  in  selfish  gratifi- 
cations. Many  benefits  were  secured  by  this  wise 
paternal  arrangement:  the  delight  ot  horticulture 
inspired  the  boys  with  a  love  of  home,  drew 


HAPPINESS.  249 

them  from  the  risk  of  sports  with  promiscuous 
companions,  and  taught  them  the  manly  con- 
sciousness of  useful  industry,  not  often  tasted  by 
the  children  of  the  rich ;  neatness  of  penmanship, 
and  accuracy  in  accounts,  were  collaterally  aided; 
while  fraternal  affection,  generosity,  and  benevo- 
lence, were  alike  gratified.  All  these  were  but 
different  forms  of  happiness. 

The  sacred  festival  of  Christmas,  the  ancient 
one  of  New- Year,  and  the  annual  Thanksgiving 
appointed  in  many  of  our  States,  are  periods  in 
which  the  young  should  be  particularly  incited 
to  remember  the  poor.  Especially  at  the  hal- 
lowed celebration  of  His  lowly  birth,  whose  mis- 
sion was  to  "seek  and  to  save  the  lost,"  should 
their  minds  be  directed  to  the  destitute  family, 
the  neglected  child,  or  the  benighted  heathen.  In 
furnishing  the  basket  for  the  sick,  and  famishing, 
the  garment  for  the  shivering  sufferer,  or  the 
volume  of  instruction  for  the  ignorant,  I  have 
seen  fair  brows  lighted  up  with  a  more  joyous 
and  eloquent  beauty,  than  the  most  splendid  gift 
could  have  imparted.  For  with  the  latter,  there 
would  have  been  the  momentary  thrill  of  recep- 
tion, or  the  pride  of  exhibition,  both  centering  in 
self;  but  with  the  former  would  entwine  the  last- 
ing remembrance  of  having  caused  the  heart  of 
the  sorrowful  to  sing  for  joy. 

Parents,  who  are  always  delighted  to  see  their 


250  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

children  happy,  should  consider  in  what  their 
true  happiness  consists.  Mistakes  are  sometimes 
niade  with  regard  to  its  nature.  I  knew  a  mother 
replete  with  benevolence  and  the  soul  of  affection. 
She  found  her  husband  and  children  made  happy 
by  the  pleasures  of  the  palate.  Her  life  was  de- 
voted to  that  end.  Elegance,  and  unending  va- 
riety, characterized  her  table.  Her  invention  was 
taxed,  her  personal  labour  often  put  in  requisi- 
tion, for  efforts  to  which  the  genius  of  her  ser- 
vants was  unequal.  She  loved  the  glowing  smile 
that  repaid  her  toils.  The  motive  was  affection- 
ate :  what  were  its  results  ?  In  some,  convivial- 
ity ;  in  others,  gluttony ;  in  all,  a  preference  of 
sense  to  spirit. 

Another  mother  wished  to  make  a  family  of 
beautiful  daughters  happy.  She  encouraged  the 
gay  amusements  in  which  youth  delights.  Ex- 
pensive dresses  and  rich  jewelry  were  found  ne- 
cessary. She  could  not  bear  to  see  her  daughters 
outshone  and  mortified.  She  taxed  the  purse  of 
her  husband  beyond  its  capacity,  and  contrary  to 
his  judgment.  Her  principal  argument  was,  "I 
know  you  love  to  see  our  young  people  happy." 
Her  theory  of  happiness  ended  in  a  spirit  of  dis- 
play, a  necessity  of  excitement,  a  habit  of  com- 
petition, a  ruinous  extravagance. 

If  we  would  advance  the  true  felicity  of  others, 
we  must  not  only  know  in  what  it  consists,  but 


HAPPINESS.  251 

must  also  be  happy  ourselves.  Let  us  remember 
that  we  must  give  account  at  last,  for  our  happi- 
ness, as  well  as  for  any  other  sacred  deposite. 
A  capacity  for  it  has  been  given  us;  how  have 
we  improved  it?  Have  we  suffered  it  to  grow 
inert,  or  morbid? 

A  cup  was  put  into  our  hands,  capable  of 
containing  the  bright  essences  which  this  beau- 
tiful creation  yields.  Have  we  allowed  it  to  be 
filled  with  tears?  have  we  dampened  its  crystal 
surface  with  perpetual  sighs? 

The  flowers  of  affection  were  sown  along  our 
path.  Did  we  gratefully  inhale  them,  or  com- 
plain that  weeds  sometimes  mingled  with  them, 
that  the  roses  were  not  without  thorns,  that  the 
fairest  and  purest  were  never  exempt  from  mil- 
dew, and  frost,  and  death? 

If  we  are  so  happy  as  at  last  to  arrive  at 
heaven,  and  some  reproving  seraph  at  its  gate, 
should  ask  why  we  came  mourning  or  repining 
along  our  pilgrim-path,  and  assure  us  that  the 
dispositions  of  that  blessed  clime  ought  to  have 
been  cultivated  below,  that  joy  and  praise  were 
the  elements  of  its  atmosphere,  how  earnestly 
should  we  wish  that  the  whole  of  our  life  had 
been  a  preparation  for  that  Eternity  of  love,  and 
that  we  had  travelled  thither  with  a  countenance 
always  radiant,  "an  everlasting  hymn  witliin  our 
souls." 


252  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 


LETTER  XXI. 

ADVERSITY. 

To  bear  the  evils  and  sorrows  which  may  b« 
appointed  us,  with  a  patient  mind,  should  be  the 
continual  effort  of  our  sex.  It  seems,  indeed,  tc 
be  expected  of  us ;  since  the  passive  and  enduring 
virtues  are  more  immediately  within  our  pro 
vince. 

How  often  does  adversity  strengthen  the  char 
acter,  impart  powerful  motives  of  action,  and  un 
fold  hidden  energies, 

"As  darkness  shows  us  worlds  of  light, 
We  never  saw  by  day." 

The  trials  and  dangers,  through  which  Queer 
Elizabeth  past,  in  early  life,  gave  her  a  discretior 
and  firmness  of  character,  which  she  could  neve: 
have  learned  amid  the  effeminacy  of  courts 
Without  these  causes,  the  high  enthusiasm  wouk 
never  have  burst  forth,  which  greeted  her,  when 
about  to  pass  from  prison-durance  to  a  throne 
she  appeared  on  horseback  at  the  camp  in  Til 
bury,  and  said  nobly  to  the  soldiers  and  people 


ADVERSITY.  253 

"I  am  come  among  you  all,  not  as  for  my  re- 
creation and  sport,  but  as  being  resolved  in  the 
midst  and  heat  of  battle,  to  live  or  die  amongst 
you.  I  have  but  the  body  of  a  weak  and  feeble 
woman,  but  I  have  the  heart  of  a  king,  and  a 
king  of  England  too,  and  can  lay  down  for  my 
God,  and  for  my  kingdom,  and  for  my  people, 
my  honour  and  my  blood,  even  in  the  dust." 

It  is  universally  acknowledged  that  the  vicissi- 
tudes which  Louis  Philippe,  the  present  king  of 
France,  for  many  years  sustained,  have  contribu- 
ted to  render  him  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
sovereigns  in  Europe,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most 
exemplary  and  amiable  men,  in  private  life. 

To  descend  from  the  scale  of  royalty,  what 
country  has  such  an  array  of  self-made  men.  as 
our  own?  men  whose  hardships  lay  at  the  root 
of  their  greatness,  and  who,  in  the  "  baptism  of 
fame,  have  given  themselves  their  own  name." 
How  many  instances  have  we  seen,  where  unex- 
pected reverses  of  fortune,  were  blest  as  benefits 
to  a  rising  family,  extirpating  the  rust  of  indo- 
lence or  selfishness,  and  contributing  to  render 
each  one,  more  useful,  more  respectable,  more  ra- 
tionally happy.'  Should  such  changes  happen  to 
either  ourselves  or  our  children,  let  us  not  in- 
dulge despondence,  but  receive  them  with  cheer- 
ful courage,  as  rough  teachers  of  a  higher  wis- 
dom, than  might  otherwise  have  been  learned. 
22 


254  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

Let  us,  while  all  is  fair  and  bright  around  us, 
meditate  on  the  uses  of  affliction,  and  thus  like 
the  "armourer  accomplishing  the  knight,"  be  in 
some  measure  girded  for  its  approach.  None  are 
exempted  from  the  visitations  of  disappointment 
and  sorrow.  All  should  be  made  better  by  them. 
Every  one  kindles  a  flame,  which  might  help  to 
melt  the  dross  of  selfishness,  or  consume  our  in- 
ordinate love  of  the  world ;  and  their  ashes,  were 
we  more  faithful  in  such  husbandry,  would  quick- 
en the  germination  of  that  holy  seed,  whose  ri- 
pened fruit  is  for  a  better  world. 

We  cannot  perceive  that  an  unbroken  course 
of  prosperity  is  favourable  to  devotion.  Sloth, 
pride,  and  want  of  sympathy  for  the  woes  of 
others,  are  too  often  its  attendants.  It  might 
seem  an  anomaly  to  say,  that  a  superabundance 
of  gifts  from  the  Author  of  all  our  mercies 
should  induce  forgetfulness  of  Him.  And  yet, 
does  not  our  observation  of  human  nature  show, 
that  the  poorest  are  often  the  most  thankful  for 
slight  bounty?  that  the  habitual  sufferer  is  prone 
to  the  deepest  devotion?  that  those  on  whom  lit- 
tle has  been  bestowed,  engrave  the  name  of  the 
Giver  most  legibly  upon  the  living-stone  of  their 
hearts? 

A  poor  inhabitant  of  the  northern  isles  of  Scot- 
land left  for  the  first  time  the  rugged  shore  of 
St.  Kilda,  where,  in  the  dark  cabin  of  his  father, 


ADVERSITY.  255 

he  had  been  nurtured,  as  the  arctick  pine,  amid 
the  crevices  of  the  rock.  When  the  boat  ap- 
proached the  coast  of  Mull,  he  gazed  with  won- 
der, as  on  an  unbounded  hemisphere.  A  pas- 
senger mocked  the  simple-hearted  man,  with  tales 
of  the  magnificence  which  reigned  there.  He 
also  ridiculed  the  poverty  of  St.  Kilda.  The 
son  of  the  rock  listened  in  silence.  If  he  felt 
the  caustick,  he  forbore  to  retaliate.  At  length 
the  officious  narrator  said,  "heard  ye  ever  of 
God  in  that  bleak  island  of  St.  Kilda?" 

"From  whence  came  you?"  inquired  the  taci- 
turn and  grave  Highlander. 

"O,  from  a  beauteous  land,  where  the  fields 
give  us  wheat  before  we  ask  for  it,  where  rich 
fruits  make  the  air  fragrant,  and  honey  fills  every 
flower." 

"Came  ye  from  so  fair  a  land?  Man  might 
forget  God  there.  In  my  own  St.  Kilda  he  never 
can.  Building  his  home  on  a  rock,  suspended 
over  a  precipice,  chilled  by  the  wintry  wind, 
tossed  on  the  wild  ocean,  he  never  can  forget 
his  God.  No,  he  hangs  every  moment  on  his 
arm." 

Where  man  shall  turn  for  solace  in  adversity, 
has  been  his  earnest  inquiry  ever  since  he  was 
placed  upon  the  earth.  Since  his  expulsion  from 
Paradise,  he  has  ever  had  seasons  of  wandering 
and  of  woe,  "  seeking  rest,  and  finding  none." 


256  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

Nature  prompts  the  sorrowful  to  repose  upon 
some  kindred  spirit,  to  lay  part  of  their  burden 
upon  the  nearest  in  friendship  or  affection.  Yet 
there  are  evils,  which  the  most  perfect  union  of 
hearts  cannot  alleviate.  The  perpetual  sadness 
of  a  broken  spirit  is  beyond  the  reach  of  external 
intercourse.  Indeed,  the  most  incurable  evils 
sometimes  spring  from  the  closest  affinities.  The 
parent  may  be  doomed  to  see  the  child,  in  whom 
his  proudest  hopes  were  garnered  up,  smite 
down  those  hopes  and  trample  their  roots,  though 
they  grew  in  the  "deep  of  his  heart."  Will 
friendship  comfort  him?  The  wife  may  find  the 
idol  of  her  love,  the  victim  of  vice,  or  estranged 
from  her  as  an  enemy.  What  remaining  affec- 
tion can  fill  the  void  in  her  soul?  Bereavements 
may  be  so  bitter  and  entire,  that  none  shall  be 
left  to  comfort .  the  lonely  survivor.  The  poor 
chieftain  of  the  forest  was  not  left  without  a 
parallel,  when  he  exclaimed  in  his  desolation, 
"who  is  there  to  mourn  for  Logan?  Not  one." 

Still  the  question  returns,  where  shall  we  look 
for  solace  under  such  adversities  as  transcend  the 
help  of  man?  The  poetry  of  Philosophy  replies, 
that  Time  is  the  physician  of  grief.  We  see  that 
he  is  so  for  common  losses,  or  for  those  that 
more  immediately  affect  the  passions.  But  are 
there  not  afflictions,  whose  extent  is  made  more 
evident  by  the  lapse  of  years?  where  the  tem- 


ADVERSITY.  257 

pest  of  sorrow  indeed  abates,  but  where  the 
waste  of  comfort,  the  desolation  of  hope,  the  im- 
possibility of  restitution,  only  become  more  ap- 
parent? To  such,  Time  acts  only  as  a  torch- 
bearer,  revealing  the  extent  of  a  ruin,  which  he 
has  no  power  to  repair.  He  may,  indeed,  cause 
the  tide  of  weepirfg  to  roll  back,  but  it  is  to  dis- 
cover the  magnitude  of  the  wreck,  the  multitude 
of  precious  things  thrown  over  in  the  storm,  frag- 
ments of  treasure,  which  the  tantalizing  surge 
displays  for  a  moment,  and  then  swallows  up  for- 
ever. 

Time  may,  indeed,  be  a  successful  physician 
for  the  sorrows  of  youth.  Then,  the  buoyant 
heart  voluntarily  co-operates  with  any  sanitary 
regimen.  It  is  fruitful  in  substitutes  for  lost  de- 
lights. In  its  vigorous  policy,  it  scarcely  waits 
for  Time  to  aid  in  repairing  the  breaches  in  its 
sanctuary.  When  its  tendrils  are  stricken  from 
one  prop,  how  soon  are  they  seen  clasping  an- 
Dther,  and  covering  it  with  blossoms. 

Far  otherwise  is  it  in  the  wane  of  life.  The 
heart,  often  bruised,  often  smitten,  clings  with  a 
more  rigid  grasp  to  its  diminishing  joys.  As  the 
circle  grows  narrower,  it  struggles  to  spread  itself 
over  the  whole  of  it,  to  touch  and  to  guard  every 
point.  But  the  pilgrim  of  many  lustrums  cannot 
hope  to  call  forth  in  young  bosoms  the  recipro- 
city which  the  fervour  of  his  own  prime  enkin^ 
22* 


258  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

died.  Between  him  and  them  "is  a  great  gulf 
fixed."  The  affections  lose  the  power  of  re-pro- 
duction. They  have  no  longer  that  Promethean 
fire,  by  which  dead  elements  are  quickened  into 
friendship.  The  path  of  life  has  become  to  them 
as  the  "valley  of  dry  bones."  They  wander 
through  it,  without  the  ability  to  bid  one  skele- 
ton arise,  and  be  clothed  with  flesh.  They  be- 
come too  inert  to  enchain  even  the  living  and 
willing  objects  that  surround  them.  Like  the  ru- 
minating animals,  they  slumber  over  the  food 
which  once  they  pursued,  as  the  fleet  roe-buck 
upon  the  mountains. 

It  is  possible  also,  that,  with  years,  a  kind  of 
hallowed  jealousy  may  steal  over  the  soul.  Per- 
haps it  may  refuse  to  admit  new  imagery  to  a 
shrine,  where  its  earliest-chosen,  longest-consecra- 
ted idols  dwelt,  and  were  worshipped.  With  a 
morbid,  yet  blameless  constancy,  it  may  hermeti- 
cally seal  the  vase,  where  its  first,  purest  odours 
had  birth  and  were  exhaled. 

Therefore,  the  medical  influence  of  Time,  at 
its  highest  power,  ranks  only  as  a  sedative.  It 
cannot  extirpate  those  roots  of  sorrow,  which 
strike  to  the  extremest  verge  of  human  life.  Es- 
pecially will  the  hoary-headed,  if  they  trust  Time 
as  their  sole  physician,  find  him  stupifying  their 
senses  with  a  transient  opiate,  but  leaving  the 
heart's  wounds  to  rankle  and  rankle,  till,  like  the 


ADVERSITY.  259 

bereaved  patriarch,  they  "go  down  into  the  grave, 
to  the  lost  one,  mourning." 

The  inquiry  still  recurs,  where  shall  we  turn, 
under  the  deepest  calamities  that  are  appointed 
to  humanity?  A  sterner  philosophy  than  that  at 
first  quoted,  answers,  •'  rise  above  them,  be  insen- 
sible to  them."  Oh,  but  man  is  too  frail  and  sen- 
sitive, too  much  wrapped  up  in  a  net-work  of 
nerves,  and  too  faint  at  heart,  to  stand  against 
the  dread  artillery  of  woe.  A  baleful  wind  sweeps 
away  his  strength ;  a  frown  on  the  face  of  one 
he  loves,  drinks  up  his  spirit;  the  fickle  breath 
of  the  populace  inflates  him;  the  dew-drops  in 
his  broken  cistern  dry  up,  and  he  is  in  bitter- 
ness ;  fever  touches  his  clay-temple,  and  he  is 
gone.  Is  he,  who  cannot  cope  with  the  feeblest 
agent,  expected  to  stand  unmelted  in  the  "seven- 
times  heated  furnace?"  He  cannot  resist  the  ele- 
ments :  how  can  he  endure  the  wrath  of  their 
Omnipotent  Ruler,  when  he  "ariseth  to  shake 
terribly  the  earth?" 

That  remedy  for  adversity,  which  neither  the 
light  of  nature  discovered,  nor  the  pharmacopeia 
of  Time  contained,  of  which  Philosophy  both  in 
its  poetry  and  its  stoicism  has  failed,  is  contained 
in  a  single  prescription  of  the  Gospel,  the  sub- 
mission of  our  will  to  that  which  is  divine. 
How  simply  is  it  illustrated  in  the  aspiration  of 
Thomas  a  Kempis :  "  Give  me  what  thou  wilt, 


260  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

and  in  what  measure,  and  at  what  time,  thou 
wilt.  Do  with  me  what  thou  knowest  to  be 
best,  what  best  pleaseth  thee.  Place  me  where 
thou  wilt,  freely  dispose  of  me  in  all  things." 

Still  more  concisely  was  it  expressed  by  Fene- 
lon,  "  I  am  silent ;  I  offer  myself  in  sacrifice ; 
henceforth  I  have  no  will,  save  to  accomplish 
thine:"  but  ah,  how  much  more  forcibly  in  that 
agonizing  sigh  from  Gethsemane,  "not  my  will, 
but  thine  be  done"  when  even  the  strengthening 
angel  was  astonished,  and  Earth  trembled  as  she 
tasted  the  first  trickling  drops  of  her  Redeemer's 
blood. 


LOSS    OP    CHILDREN.  261 


LETTER    XXII. 

LOSS    OF   CHILDREN. 

To  bear  the  loss  of  children  with  submission, 
requires  the  strong  exercise  of  a  Christian's  faith. 
It  seems  to  contradict  the  course  of  nature,  that 
the  young  and  blooming  should  descend  to  the 
tomb,  before  the  aged  and  infirm.  We  expect  to 
see  the  unfolding  of  a  bud  which  we  have 
watched  till  it  had  burst  its  sheath,  trembling 
with  joy  and  beauty,  as  it  first  met  the  sunbeam. 
"  These  same  shall  comfort  us,  concerning  all  our 
toil,"  is  the  voice  in  the  heart  of  every  parent, 
who  contemplates  the  children  for  whom  he  has 
laboured  and  prayed. 

The  death  of  a  babe,  creates  no  common  sor- 
row. Even  the  burial  of  one  that  has  never 
breathed,  brings  a  keen  pang  to  a  parent's  heart. 
The  political  economist,  who  estimates  the  value 
of  every  being,  by  the  strength  of  his  sinews,  or 
the  gain  which  he  is  capable  of  producing  to 
the  community,  views  the  removal  of  infancy 
as  but  the  wiping  away  of  "the  small  dust  from 
the  balance."  But  he  has  not,  like  the  mother, 


262  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

knelt  and  wept  over  its  vacant  cradle,  stretched 
out  his  arms  at  midnight  for  its  pliant  form, 
and  found  only  emptiness,  listened  in  vain  for 
its  little  quiet  breathing,  and  felt  his  heart  deso- 
late. The  scales  in  which  a  mother  weighs  her 
treasures,  are  not  the  same  in  which  the  man  of 
the  world  weighs  his  silver  and  gold.  Her  grief 
is  often  most  poignant  for  the  youngest  and  faint- 
est blossom.  Thus  feeling  anguish,  where  others 
scarcely  see  cause  for  regret,  has  she  not  an  op- 
portunity more  permanently  to  benefit  by  the  dis- 
cipline of  Heaven?  Is  she  not  moved  to  deeper 
sympathy  with  all  who  mourn?  Is  she  not  bet- 
ter fitted  to  become  a  comforter?  more  strongly 
incited  to  every  deed  of  mercy  ?  When  she  sees 
a  little  coffin  pass,  no  matter  whether  the  mother 
who  mourns  be  a  stranger,  or  a  mendicant,  or 
burnt  dark  beneath  an  African  sun,  is  she  not  to 
her,  in  the  pitying  thrill  of  that  moment,  as  a 
sister  ? 

Yet  not  alone  in  the  quickening  of  sympathy, 
or  the  excitement  to  benevolence,  do  such  deep 
afflictions  bring  gain  to  the  sufferer.  Other  seeds 
of  goodness  are  sown  in  the  softened  soil.  The 
thoughts  and  affections  are  drawn  upward.  The 
glorified  spirit  of  the  infant  is  a  star  to  guide  the 
mother  to  its  own  blissful  clime.  Is  it  not  her 
wish  to  be  where  her  babe  is?  And  will  she 
not  strive  to  prepare  herself  for  its  pure  society? 


LOSS    OF   CHILDREN.  263 

If  the  cares  or  sins  of  earth  ever  threaten  to  gain 
the  victory,  she  is  arrested  by  a  little  hand  reach- 
ing from  the  skies,  by  the  cherub  voice  which 
implores,  "Oh,  mother,  come  to  me." 

Sometimes  grief  loses  itself  in  gratitude,  that 
those  who  once  called  forth  so  much  solicitude, 
are  free  from  the  hazards  of  this  changeful  life. 
Here,  temptations  may  foil  the  strongest,  and  sins 
overshadow  those  whose  opening  course  was  most 
fair.  From  all  such  dangers,  the  early  smitten, 
the  "lambs  whom  the  Saviour  taketh  untas.kedj 
untried,"  have  forever  escaped.  To  be  sinless, 
and  at  rest,  is  a  glorious  heritage.  Sorrow  hath 
no  more  dominion  over  them.  No  longer  may 
they  be  racked  with  pain,  or  pale  with  weakness, 
or  emaciated  by  disease.  No  longer  will  their 
dove-like  moaning  distress  the  friend  watching  by 
their  sleepless  couch,  nor  the  parents  shudder, 
with  untold  agony,  to  find  that  they  have  no 
power  to  sooth  the  last  fearful  death-groan.  We, 
who  still  bear  the  burdens  of  a  weary  pilgrim- 
age, who  have  still  to  meet  the  pang  of  disease, 
and  to  struggle  ere  we  pay  our  last  debt  to  the 
destroyer,  cherish  as  our  strongest  consolation  the 
hope  of  entering  that  peaceful  haven  which  they 
have  already  attained. 

How  affecting  was  the  resignation  of  the  poor 
Icelandick  mother:  "Four  children  were  given 
me.  Two  are  with  me,  and  two  with  God. 


264  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

Those  who  are  with  God  are  the  happiest.  I 
do  not  feel  troubled  about  them.  I  am  only 
anxious  that  those  who  remain  with  me  may  so 
live,  that,  by  and  by,  they  may  be  with  him  too." 

"The  most  lovely  and  promising  of  my  chil- 
dren have  been  smitten,"  said  a  mourning  parent. 
"  If  it  were  not  so,  I  could  have  borne  it  better." 
But  did  not  the  very  goodness  and  piety  which 
endeared  them  to  you,  render  them  more  fit  to 
be  companions  of  the  pure  spirits  around  the 
Throne?  Their  virtues,  their  loveliness,  seem  in- 
deed to  have  made  your  loss  the  greater.  But 
would  you  have  had  them  less  virtuous,  less 
lovely?  You  do  not  grudge  that  the  gift  should 
have  been  in  some  degree  worthy  of  Him  who 
jesumed  it.  Oh  no!  You  cannot  regret  that 
their  fair  promise  of  excellence  was  unclouded, 
when  they  went  down  to  the  dust. 

I  once  saw  a  sight,  mournful,  yet  beautiful. 
Twin  infants,  in  the  same  coffin.  Their  waxen 
brows  had  been  so  much  alike,  that  only  the  eye 
of  domestic  intimacy  could  distinguish  them. 
One  was  suddenly  wounded  by  a  dart  from 
those  countless  diseases,  which  are  in  ambush 
around  the  first  years  of  life.  The  other  moaned 
and  cried  incessantly  for  his  companion.  Nothing 
could  divert  or  sooth  him.  But  Death  united 
them.  So  soon  did  the  survivor  sicken,  that  his 
brother  waited  for  him  in  the  coffin.  There 


LOSS    OP   CHILDREN.  265 

were  bright  rose-buds  in  their  little  hands,  as 
they  slumbered  side  by  side.  Together  they  had 
entered  the  gate  of  life,  and  at  the  gate  of  death 
were  scarcely  divided.  When,  after  the  silent  lapse 
of  time,  the  mother  was  able  to  speak  of  her  be- 
reavement with  composure,  she  said,  that  from 
among  the  sources  whence  she  had  derived  com- 
fort, was  the  thought  that  they  would  be  always 
together.  While  in  their  health  and  beauty,  she 
had  sometimes  anxiously  contemplated  those 
many  changes  and  adversities  which  might  di- 
vide their  path  from  each  other,  "far  as  the 
poles  apart,"  and  possibly  estrange  those  hearts, 
which,  like  kindred  drops,  Nature  seemed  to 
have  melted  into  one. 

Surely,  the  thought  of  the  indissoluble  union 
of  their  dear  ones,  must  be  a  consolation  to  af- 
flicted parents.  Here,  they  met  but  to  part  again. 
There,  they  are  to  be  forever  with  the  Lord. 
Here,  they  must  sometimes  have  left  home,  and 
been  among  strangers.  Then,  what  anxieties  dis- 
turb the  parental  bosom,  lest  they  might  be  sick, 
and  need  care  or  comfort,  in  error  or  heaviness, 
and  suffer  for  counsel,  and  sympathy.  But  they 
are  where  nothing  hurtful  can  intrude.  No  long- 
er they  feel  the  timidity  of  strangers.  They  are 
at  home  in  the  house  of  their  Father.  A  fami- 
ly broken  up  on  earth,  re-assembled  in  Heaven. 
Those  who  dwelt  for  a  little  time  in  the  same 
23 


266  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

tent  of  clay,  are  gathered  together,  around  the  al- 
tar of  immortality. 

We  sometimes  see  parents  suddenly  bereft  of 
all  their  children.  To  have  their  most  precious 
treasures  swept  utterly  away,  and  find  that  home 
desolate,  which  was  wont  to  resound  with  the 
voice  of  young  affection,  and  the  tones  of  inno- 
cent mirth,  is  a  sorrow  which  none  can  realize, 
save  those  who  bear  it.  All  human  sympathies 
fall  short  of  the  occasion.  The  admonition  not 
to  mourn,  is  misplaced.  " Jesus  wept"  Is  not 
this  a  sufficient  sanction  for  the  mourner's  tear? 
He  who  appoints  such  discipline,  never  intended 
that  we  should  be  insensible  to  it,  or  that  we 
should  gird  ourselves  in  the  armour  of  pride  to 
meet  it,  or  seal  up  the  fountain  of  tears,  when  he 
maketh  the  heart  soft. 

If  we  attempt  to  comfort  those  who  lament 
the  extinction  of  a  whole  family,  cut  down  in 
their  tender  years,  what  shall  we  say?  We  are 
constrained  to  acknowledge  that  earth  has  no  sub- 
stitute for  such  a  loss.  Dear  afflicted  friends,  ask 
it  not  of  earth,  but  look  to  Heaven.  Is  not  the 
interval  of  separation  short  ?  How  soon  will  the 
years  fleet,  ere  you  lie  down  to  slumber  in  the 
same  narrow  bed  appointed  for  all  the  living. 
If  they  died  in  the  Redeemer,  and  you  live  in 
obedience  to  his  commands,  how  rapturous  will 
be  the  everlasting  embrace  in  which  you  shall 


LOSS    OP    CHILDREN.  267 

enfold  them.  Can  you  pourtray,  can  you  even 
imagine  that  meeting  in  heaven? 

"  When  I  meet  with  the  grief  of  parents,  pour- 
trayed  upon  the  tomb-stone,"  said  Addison,  "my 
heart  melts  with  compassion ;  but  when  I  see 
the  tombs  of  parents  themselves,  I  consider  the 
vanity  of  grieving  for  those  who  must  so  soon 
follow." 

You  will  not,  then,  become  a  prey  to  despond- 
ence, though  loneliness  broods  over  your  dwell- 
ing, when  you  realize  that  its  once  cherished  in- 
mates have  but  gone  a  little  in  advance  to  those 
mansions  which  the  Saviour  hath  prepared  for 
all  who  love  him.  Can  you  not  sometimes  find 
it  in  your  hearts  to  bless  God  that  your  loss  is 
the  gain  of  your  children?  While  they  were 
here  below,  it  was  your  chief  joy  to  see  them 
happy.  Yet  you  were  not  sure  of  the  continu- 
ance of  their  happiness  for  a  single  hour.  Now, 
you  are  assured  both  of  the  fullness  of  their 
felicity,  and  of  its  fearless  continuance. 

We  are  delighted  when  our  children  are  in  the 
successful  pursuit  of  knowledge,  in  the  bright 
path  of  virtue,  in  the  possession  of  the  esteem  of 
the  wise  and  good.  In  sending  them  from  home, 
we  seek  to  secure  for  them  the  advantages  of 
virtuous  and  refined  society,  the  superintendence 
of  pious  and  affectionate  friends.  Were  one  illus- 
trious in  power  and  excellence  to  take  a  parental 


268  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

interest  in  their  welfare,  or  were  they  admitted 
to  be  the  companions  of  princes,  should  we  be 
insensible  to  the  honour?  Let  us  not,  then,  with 
a  wholly  unreconciled  spirit,  see  them  go  to  be 
angels  among  angels,  and  to  dwell  gloriously  in 
the  presence  of  that  "high  and  holy  One,  who 
inhabiteth  Eternity." 

Is  it  not  a  holy  privilege  to  add  to  the  number 
of  those  who  serve  God  without  sin  ?  You  must 
not  now  behold  the  dazzling  of  their  celestial 
wings,  as  they  unfold  them  without  weariness  to 
do  his  will.  But  those  whom  you  rocked  in  your 
cradle,  whom  you  consecrated  by  prayer  and  in 
baptism,  are  of  that  host.  You  cannot  hear  the 
melody  of  ethereal  harps,  attuned  to  unending 
praise.  But  they,  in  whose  hearts  early  piety  was 
implanted  by  your  prayers,  who  learned  from 
your  lips  to  warble  the  sacred  hymn  at  eve, 
swell  that  exulting  strain.  Perhaps,  from  their 
cloudless  abode,  they  still  watch  over  you.  Per- 
haps, with  a  seraph  smile,  they  hover  around 
you.  Will  they  not  rejoice  to  behold  you  walk- 
ing to  meet  them,  with  a  placid  brow  and  sub- 
missive spirit,  solacing  yourself  with  such  deeds 
of  goodness  to  others  as  are  approved  in  the 
sight  of  heaven? 

Afflictions  are  often  the  instruments  of  increas- 
ing and  maturing  the  "peaceable  fruits  of  righ- 
teousness." Peculiar  ones  ought,  therefore,  to  pro- 


LOSS    OF   CHILDREN.  269 

duce  prominent  gain.  What  sorrows  can  be 
more  peculiar  and  poignant,  than  the  desolation 
of  parents,  from  whom  all  their  children  have 
been  removed,  and  who  stand  in  hopeless  soli- 
tude, the  last  of  all  their  race  ?  Are  they  not 
incited  to  eminence  in  those  efforts  of  benevo- 
lence, which  contain  balm  for  the  chastened 
spirit  ? 

There  was  one,  and  my  heart  holds  her  image 
as  among  the  most  perfect  of  earthly  beings,  who 
in  early  life  was  written  childless.  Her  three 
beautiful  sons  were  taken  from  her  in  one  week. 
In  one  week!  and  their  places  were  never  sup- 
plied. The  little  student  of  seven  years  was 
smitten  while  over  his  books,  the  second  at  his 
sports,  the  youngest  on  his  mother's  knee.  The 
deepest  humility,  the  most  earnest  searchings  of 
heart,  were  the  immediate  results  of  this  bereave- 
ment. It  dwelt  on  her  mind,  that,  for  some  de- 
ficiency in  her  Christian  character,  this  chastise- 
ment had  been  appointed.  The  language  of  her 
contrite  prayer  was,  "Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have 
me  to  do?"  And  he  told  her.  And  she  became 
a  "mother  in  Israel."  A  sleepless,  untiring  be- 
nevolence was  the  striking  lineament  of  her  life. 
After  the  stroke  of  widowhood  fell  upon  her,  and 
she  stood  entirely  alone,  it  seemed  as  if  every 
vestige  of  selfishness  was  extinct,  and  that  her 
whole  existence  was  devoted  to  the  good  of 
23* 


270  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

others.  She  acquainted  herself  with  the  various 
necessities  of  the  poor,  the  sick,  the  aged,  and 
the  orphan.  Her  almoners  bore  gifts  suited  to 
their  needs,  while  the  giver  sought  to  be  undis- 
covered and  unknown.  Her  charity  shrank  from 
the  notice  and  praise  of  man. 

But  especially  to  children,  her  whole  soul 
poured  itself  forth.  She  distributed  fitting  books 
to  the  idle  and  to  the  ignorant,  to  the  erring  and 
to  the  good;  to  some,  that  they  might  be  en- 
couraged in  the  right  way,  and  ,to  others,  that 
they  might  be  allured  to  enter  it.  Those  of  her 
neighbours  and  friends  she  gathered  often  around 
her  table,  made  them  happy  by  her  affability, 
cheered  them  with  her  sweet,  sacred  songs,  and 
improved  the  influence  thus  gained,  to  impress 
on  them  the  precepts  of  heavenly  wisdom.  May 
I  not  hope  that  the  heart  of  some  reader  en- 
shrines the  blessed  image  of  the  same  benefactor, 
whose  countenance  was  to  my  childhood  more 
beautiful  amid  the  furrows  and  silver  hairs  of 
fourscore-and-eight  years,  than  any  where  youth 
and  bloom  revelled;  for  it  was  beautiful,  through 
the  goodness  that  never  waxeth  old,  and  it  was 
the  eye  of  gratitude  that  regarded  it. 

For  the  stranger,  the  emigrant,  and  the  poor 
African,  how  active  were  her  sympathies.  The 
outcast  Indian  found  in  her  mansion,  bread  and 
a  garment,  and,  what  was  dearer  to  him  than  all, 


LOSS    OF   CHILDREN.  271 

kind,  pitying  words.  Endowed  with  a  lofty  and- 
cultivated  intellect,  and  with  that  wealth  which 
the  world  is  wont  to  estimate  still  more  highly, 
she  humbled  herself  to  the  meanest  creature,  that 
she  might  do  them  good.  She  seemed  willing  to 
become  "their  servant,  for  Jesus'  sake." 

What  part  her  deep  afflictions  bore  in  this 
meek  and  sublimated  benevolence,  whether  they 
were  as  the  crucible  to  the  gold,  or  as  the  re- 
finer's fire  to  the  silver,  we  cannot  tell.  He  who 
sent  them,  knoweth. 

Though  resignation  under  bereavement,  or  the 
springing  of  spiritual  graces  from  its  bitter  root, 
are  solemn  and  salutary  lessons  to  the  beholder, 
is  it  not  possible  to  advance  even  higher  in  the 
school  of  Christ?  'May  not  a  Christian  be  able 
to  yield,  without  repining,  the  dearest  idols  to 
Him  who  loved  him  and  gave  himself  for  him? 
To  reveal  its  complacence  by  gifts,  seems  to  be 
one  of  the  native  dialects  of  love.  The  little 
child  presents  its  favourite  teacher  with  a  fresh 
flower.  It  hastens  to  its  mother,  with  the  first, 
best  rose  from  its  little  garden.  In  the  kiss  to 
its  father,  with  which  it  resigns  itself  to  sleep,  it 
gives  away  its  whole  heart. 

Nor  does  love  falter,  though  its  gifts  involve 
sacrifices.  •  The  young  bride  leaves  the  hearth- 
stone of  her  earliest  remembrances,  and  lifts  her 
timid  brow  in  the  home  of  strangers,  or  follows 


272  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

her  chosen  protector  to  a  wild  land,  and  unin- 
habited, willingly  trusting  to  him  her  "all  of 
earth,  perchance  her  all  of  heaven."  The  mother 
grudges  not  the  pang,  the  faded  bloom,  the  weary 
night- watchings  with  which  she  rears  her  infant. 
Must  an  earthly  love  ever  transcend  that  which 
is  divine?  Will  Christian  parents  always  yield 
with  reluctance  their  children  to  that  Beneficent 
Being,  whom  "not  having  seen,  they  love?" 

"How  have  you  attained  such  sweet  resigna- 
tion?" said  a  pastor  to  a  young  mother,  who  had 
newly  buried  her  first-born.  She  replied,  "When 
my  boy  was  with  me,  I  used  to  think  of  him 
continually,  whether  sleeping  or  waking.  To  me 
he  seemed  more  beautiful  than  other  children.  I 
was  disappointed  if  visitors  omitted  to  praise  his 
eyes,  or  his  curls,  or  the  robes  that  I  wrought 
for  him  with  my  needle.  At  first,  I  believed  it 
the  natural  current  of  a  mothers  love.  Then  I 
feared  it  was  pride,  and  sought  to  humble  myself 
before  Him  who  resisteth  the  proud. 

One  night,  in  dreams,  I  thought  an  angel  stood 
beside  me,  and  said,  "where  is  the  little  bud  that 
thou  nursest  in  thy  bosom?  I  am  sent  to  take 
it.  Where  is  thy  little  harp?  Give  it  to  me. 
It  is  like  those  which  breathe  the  praise  of  God 
in  heaven."  I  awoke  in  tears.  My  beautiful 
boy  drooped  like  a  bud  which  the  worm  pierces. 
His  last  wailing  was  like  the  sad  musick  from 


LOSS    OP   CHILDREN.  273 

shattered  harp-strings.  All  my  world  seemed 
gone.  Still,  in  my  agony,  I  listened,  for  there 
was  a  voice  in  my  soul,  like  the  voice  of  the 
angel  who  had  warned  me :  "  God  loveth  a 
cheerful  giver."  I  laid  my  lip  on  the  earth,  and 
said,  "let  my  will  be  thine."  And  as  I  arose, 
though  the  tear  lay  on  my  cheek,  there  was  a 
smile  there  also.  Since  then,  it  has  been  with 
me.  Amid  the  duties  ©f  every  day,  it  seems  to 
say,  "the  cheerful  giver!  the  cheerful  giver!" 

"That  smile,"  said  her  venerable  pastor,  "like 
the  faith  of  Abraham,  shall  be  counted  unto  thee 
as  righteousness." 


274  LETTERS   TO    MOTHERS. 


LETTER    XXIII. 

SICKNESS    AND    DECLINE. 

THOSE  who  are  subject  to  varieties  of  physical 
infirmity,  should  study  the  philosophy  of  sickness. 
They  should  not  only  learn  a  fitting  deportment 
under  it,  but  seek  those  spiritual  benefits  which 
all  afflictions  are  intended  to  produce. 

Patience  and  fortitude,  when  we  suffer,  found- 
ed on  the  consciousness  that  we  are  in  the  hands 
of  our  Heavenly  Father,  whose  love  will  not  fail, 
and  whose  wisdom  cannot  err;  a  docile  trust  in 
the  physician  to  whom  we  have  confided  our 
case ;  and  that  cheerful  hope  which  can  find  the 
bright  side  of  even  unfavourable  symptoms,  or 
unpleasant  occurrences,  are  among  the  first  les- 
sons in  the  science  of  salutary  endurance.  We 
should  be  careful  to  cultivate  good  feelings  to- 
wards all  who  are  around  us,  and  to  overrule 
the  irritability  which  sometimes  arises  from  ob- 
struction in  the  paths  of  our  accustomed  useful- 
ness. While  by  promptness  in  adopting  appoint- 
ed remedies,  we  voluntarily  co-operate  with  every 
sanitary  process,  we  should  guard  against  that 


SICKNESS   AND   DECLINE.  275 

undue  haste  to  recover,  which  plunges  ardent 
natures  into  baneful,  and  even  fatal  imprudences. 
Sometimes,  a  reluctance,  and  depression  of 
spirits,  are  indulged  by  those  who  have  the  pros- 
pect of  becoming  mothers,  which  are  both  injuri- 
ous and  unchristian.  One  of  the  weapons  with 
which  to  repel  this  want  of  reconciliation,  is 
drawn  from  the  armoury  of  common  sense.  Is 
not  the  state  of  matrimony  that,  in  which  the 
Almighty  has  decreed  our  race  to  be  perpetuated? 
Those,  who  have  an  unconquerable  aversion  to 
its  results,  ought  not  to  place  themselves  in  peril. 
If  these  results  were  not  sufficiently  obvious,  if 
they  "had  not  been  told  us  from  the  beginning, 
and  understood  from  the  foundations  of  the  earth," 
if  changes  and  sorrows  had  happened  to  us, 
which  had  never  befallen  others,  we  might  be 
more  justified  in  complaining  of  a  state  which 
had  caused  them.  At  present,  there  is  neither 
room  for  surprise,  nor  right  to  murmur.  As  well 
might  the  voyager,  who  enters  a  ship,  with  full 
knowledge  of  its  destination,  complain  of  arrival 
at  the  port. 

"Did  I  but  purpose  to  embark  with  tb.ee, 
On  the  smooth  surface  of  a  summer  sea  ? 
But  would  forsake  the  ship  and  make  the   shore, 
When  the  winds  threaten,  or  the  billows  roar?" 

The  state  to  which  we  allude,  involves  inconve- 
niences and  sufferings,  but  it  should  be  sufficient 


276  LETTERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

for  a  Christian,  that  Divine  Wisdom  has  both  or- 
dained and  illumined  it.  And  how  much  better 
is  it,  for  the  individual,  and  for  all  around,  how 
much  more  generous  to  those  most  interested  in 
her  welfare,  that  instead  of  yielding  to.  lassitude, 
or  low  spirits,  she  should  cultivate  cheerfulness, 
arid  gratitude. 

How  sweetly  do  the  Germans  speak  of  a  friend, 
with  such  expectations,  as  being  in  "good  hope" 
The  mothers  of  our  American  forests,  that  red- 
brow'd  and  almost  forgotten  race,  passed  with  the 
same  meek  brow,  and  sweet-toned  voice,  on  their 
life  of  hardship,  scarcely  pausing,  as  they  planted 
the  corn,  or  gathered  in  the  harvest,  or  steered 
the  canoe,  or  snared  the  habitant  of  the  deep, 
until  the  cry  of  the  new-born  was  heard.  His- 
tory teaches  us  that  the  Romans,  and  other  ancient 
nations,  laboured  to  make  a  state  of  gestation 
one  of  cheerful  exercise,  both  to  the  body  and 
mind.  The  mother  of  Buonaparte,  for  several 
months  before  his  birth,  was  much  on  horse- 
back, with  her  husband,  entering  into  those  mili- 
tary plans  and  details  which  occupied  his  mind. 
Napoleon,  who  greatly  respected  her,  sometimes 
intimated  that  his  own  structure  of  character  had 
been  modified  by  her  heroism,  and  often  re- 
peated emphatically,  as  a  maxim,  "  the  mother 
forms  the  man" 

The  state  which   we  mention,   is   doubtless  a 


SICKNESS    AND    DECLINE.  277 

discipline  of  character.  Its  temporary  renuncia- 
tion of  the  world's  pleasures,  the  apprehension 
which  it  often  creates,  and  the  danger  with  which 
it  may  be  connected,  are  themes  for  communion 
with  Him,  who  alone  has  power  to  strengthen,  to 
save,  and  to  put  into  the  heart  a  song  of  new 
joy.  It  adds  force  and  tenderness  to  the  aspira- 
tions of  the  Psalmist,  "  Let  me  now  fall  into  the 
hand  of  the  Lord,  for  his  mercies  are  great."  Is 
it  not  a  holy  state  ?  Should  it  not  therefore  be 
happy?  Does  it  not  call  up  an  irrepressible  cou- 
rage, to  know  that  we  guard  the  destinies  of  a 
being  never  to  die  ?  Were  there  no  physical  ills 
connected  with  the  name  of  mother,  her  lot  would 
be  one  of  too  unmingled  felicity,  for  a  mortal. 
Other  sicknesses  have  only  the  hope  to  recover. 
But  in  hers,  there  is  hope  both  of  recovery,  and 
of  gain ;  the  great  gain  of  adding  another  loving 
and  beautiful  being  to  the  circle  already  so  dear; 
a  circle,  which  it  is  her  prayer  may  be  unbroken, 
in  a  home  of  glory. 

The  care  of  the  sick,  is  a  science  to  which 
time  and  attention  should  be  devoted.  It  is  a 
part  of  the  business  of  our  sex.  Appointed  as 
we  are,  to  varieties  of  indisposition,  we  are  the 
more  readily  "  touched  with  the  infirmities"  of 
others.  Let  us  see  that  our  daughters  are  early 
versed  in  those  details,  by  which  suffering  is  alle- 
viated. It  is  not  enough  to  carry  a  nursing-kind- 
24 


278  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

ness  in  the  heart.  Many  do  this,  who  yet  seem 
unable  properly,  or  effectually,  to  express  it. 
While  performing  services  in  the  chamber  of  the 
sick,  they  perhaps  forget  to  shade  the  light  from 
the  enfeebled  eye,  or  to  soften  the  footstep,  or  tone, 
for  the  trembling  nerve,  or  to  prepare  properly 
the  little  nourishment  that  impaired  digestion  can 
admit;  so  that  with  the  most  laborious  efforts, 
and  kindest  sympathies,  they'  fail  to  administer 
comfort. 

It  would  seem  that  slow,  wasting  sickness,  was 
a  severe  trial  of  the  passive  virtues,  and  the 
Christian  graces.  Yet  how  often  do  we  see  it 
calling  forth  the  most  affecting  patience  and  re- 
signation. Among"  many  such  instances,  I  think 
now  of  a  friend  of  early  days,  who  was  appointed 
to  the  debility  and  weariness  of  a  long  decline. 
Her  social  feelings,  and  her  warm  sympathies  for 
others'  sorrow,  seemed  to  act  as  remedies  for  her 
own.  Without  complaint,  she  resigned  the  inter- 
course with  Nature,  which  had  been  to  her 
inexpressibly  dear  ;  the  walk,  the  ride,  the  sight 
of  the  fresh-smelling  buds  on  her  favourite  trees, 
and  the  first,  soft  grass,  stealing  with  early  vio- 
lets, over  the  walks  that  winter  had  embrowned. 
Gradually,  her  books,  companions  from  the  cra- 
dle, and  her  pen,  so  prized  in  her  hours  of  in- 
tellectual musing,  were  resigned.  Still,  there  was 
no  murmur.  And  when  the  fearful  cough,  in- 


SICKNESS    AND    DECLINE.  279 

vading  her  last  resort,  almost  precluded  the  con- 
versation in  which  she  both  delighted  and  excelled, 
her  gentle  eye  told  the  peace  within.  One  night, 
which  her  physicians  intimated  would  be  her  last 
on  earth,  I  was  privileged  to  be  with  her,  for  I 
desired  to  stand  at  her  side,  when  the  broken 
clay  should  yield  up  the  beautiful  spirit.  Ema- 
ciation, and  infantine  helplessness,  were  upon  her, 
and  delirium  had  dictated  her  broken  speech  for 
many  days.  Yet  she  fancied  herself  surrounded 
by  bright  objects,  by  the  orange-groves,  and  jes- 
samine bowers  of  sunnier  skies,  and  by  the 
winged  spirits  of  the  happy  dead,  to  whom  she 
was  so  near.  But  though  reason  wandered,  the 
memory  of  the  heart  was  perfect,  and  I  never 
once  approached  her  pillow,  that  she  did  not  re- 
gard me  with  loving  eyes,  or  draw  my  head 
downward  to  hers,  or  detain  my  hand  in  her  flut- 
tering clasp,  or  thank  me  for  the  drop  with  which 
I  moistened  her  lips,  or  whisper  a  kind  wish  that 
I  would  rest  beside  her,  and  not  fatigue  myself 
for  her  sake.  And  it  was  the  more  affecting,  that 
the  imperishable  elements  of  her  own  lovely  na- 
ture, and  changeless  friendship,  should  gleam 
forth  with  such  purity,  amid  fragments  of  wild 
thought,  and  incoherent  exclamations,  and  misty 
gazings  into  a  shadowy  world.  And  so  Death 
stole  upon  her  like  a  gentle  sleep,  into  which  she 


280  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

entered  with  a  smile ;  "  patience  having  had  its 
perfect  work." 

Entire  resignation,  is  probably  the  highest  at- 
tainment of  our  faith.  Though  it  comes  forth 
out  of  "  great  tribulation,  as  the  fine  gold  from 
the  fire  of  the  refiner,"  yet  its  rudiments  should 
be  studied  amid  the  common  business  of  life. 
Like  Demosthenes,  preserving  the  key-note  of 
eloquence,  amid  the  thunder  of  the  sea,  we 
should  rehearse  them,  amid  the  daily  throng  of 
perplexities  and  toils.  When  serene  piety  has 
learned  to  surmount  both  the  lesser  and  greater 
evils  of  life,  when  we  have  no  longer  any  will, 
but  to  accomplish  that  of  Him  who  sent  us,  we 
are  rapidly  preparing  for  a  removal  where  His 
face  is  seen  without  a  cloud. 

While  a  slow  and  hopeless  decline  asks  only 
the  exercise  of  resignation,  there  are  varieties  of 
'chronic  disease  which  require  the  action  of  other 
graces.  Though  many  of  the  pleasures  of  life 
are  stricken  off,  some  of  its  duties  and  responsi- 
bilities remain.  To  balance  these  correctly,  to 
endure  seclusion,  perhaps  to  suffer  pain,  yet  not 
to  shrink  from  obligation,  need  the  exercise  of 
no  common  judgment,  or  in-operative  piety.  To 
cultivate  any  remaining  capacity  of  usefulness, 
to  advance  the  comfort  of  those  around,  is  a 
source  of  consolation.  This  seemed  to  be  under- 
stood by  the  wife  of  the  poor  shepherd  of  Salis- 


SICKNESS   AND   DECLINE.  281 

bury  Plain,  who,  being  disabled  from  all  use  of 
her  feet  by  rheumatism,  was  most  thankful  that 
she  could  still  sit  up  in  her  bed,  and  mend  clothes 
for  her  family.  Equally  persevering,  though  of 
a  different  character,  was  the  industry  of  the 
authoress  of  that  beautiful  story,  who  saved  the 
dotting  of  her  i's,  and  the  crossing  of  her  tf's,  for 
a  day  of  head-ache. 

Protracted  debility  gives  leisure  for  meditation. 
The  mind  has  scope  to  expatiate  on  such  oppor- 
tunities of  doing  good  as  are  left  within  its  power. 
How  may  those  within  its  more  immediate  circle 
be  benefitted?  Are  there  any  children,  or  young 
people  in  the  household,  to  whom  it  may  be  a 
teacher  of  patience  and  wisdom?  Is  there  any 
grey-haired  person  whom  it  may  make  happy? 
The  old  are  cheered  by  having  the  current  of 
thought  turned  to  their  early  days,  and  by  find- 
ing an  attentive  listener  to  their  narratives.  Tell 
them  also  of  what  transpires  day  by  day ;  keep 
up  their  interest  in  passing  events :  for  their 
memory  does  not  decay  so  much  from  necessity, 
as  through  the  neglect  of  others  to  feed  it  with 
fresh  aliment.  Sometimes  read  or  relate  to  them 
healthful  works  of  the  imagination.  They  restore 
emotions  which  stir  the  stream  of  life,  and  keep 
it  from  growing  stagnant.  They  bring  back  a 
host  of  pleasant  memories,  and  give  new  life  to 
buried  joys. 

24* 


Z»2  LETTEJRS   TO   MOTHERS. 

It  is  often  salutary  to  unite  the  aged  with 
happy  and  well-behaved  children.  The  extremes 
of  human  life  tend  naturally  and  gracefully  to- 
wards each  other,  like  the  horns  of  the  waxing 
and  waning  moon.  Though  the  chief  consola- 
tion of  age  should  be  drawn  from  the  world 
which  it  approaches,  we  must  not  suffer  it  to  feel 
useless  in  that  world  where  it  still  lingers. 

Let  us  grudge  no  exertion,  whether  in  health 
or  sickness,  to  make  the  aged  happy,  remember- 
ing how  soon  we  must  be  numbered  among  them, 
if  we  are  spared  from  the  grave.  For  how  si- 
lently do  years  steal  over  us.  Our  babes  grow 
up,  and  bring  their  own  babes  to  be  dandled 
upon  our  knees.  Still,  we  fail  to  realize  how 
rapidly  we  drift  down  the  stream  of  time.  In 
the  beautiful  expression  of  Scripture,  "grey  hairs 
are  here  and  there  upon  him,  but  he  knoweth  it 
not." 

Should  it  be  the  will  of  our  Heavenly  Father, 
that  any  of  us  should  remain  after  our  cotempo- 
raries  are  gone  to  rest,  let  us  strive  to  grow  old 
gracefully.  Let  us  not  hastily  renounce  our  part 
in  accustomed  duty,  or  be  ready  to  make  our- 
selves cyphers  in  existence,  or  jealously  conceive 
that  we  are  burdens  to  those  around.  But,  pre- 
serving an  interest  in  the  history  of  our  own 
times,  and  in  the  concerns  of  those  around  us, 
let  us  not  captiously  ask,  "why  the  former  days 


SICKNESS    AND    DECLINE.  283 

were  better  than  these,  for  we  do  not  inquire 
wisely  concerning  this." 

Especially  let  us  cultivate  love  and  forbearance 
for  the  young.  Taking  part  in  their  simple  and 
highly-relished  pleasures,  let  us  keep  our  seat  at 
life's  banquet,  as  a  satisfied,  not  satiated  guest. 
Let  the  recollection  of  our  own  early  levities 
soften  every  disposition  to  censure  those  who 
are  beginning  the  race  of  life ;  and  let  us  teach 
them  that  the  fruits  of  true  wisdom  ripen  and 
mellow,  rather  than  acidulate,  by  the  lapse  of 
years. 

Let  us  pay,  without  murmuring,  the  tax  which 
Earth  levies  upon  its  ancient  tenants.  If  the 
deafened  ear  no  longer  excites  the  mind,  if  the 
right  hand  forgets  its  cunning,  if  the  feet  refuse 
the  burden  which  from  infancy  they  bore,  it  is 
because  those  weary  labourers  have  need  of  re- 
pose. The  Sabbath  of  existence  has  come.  It 
brings  with  it  a  season  of  silence,  in  which  to 
meditate,  to  release  the  soul  from  earthly  ties,  to 
prepare  it  for  a  higher  state  of  being.  Present 
events  make  but  slight  impression.  The  far-off 
past  is  more  vivid  than  the  moving  current  of 
things.  Memory  reverses  her  tablet,  bringing 
again  the  lines  with  which  life  began.  Among 
those  traces,  there  will  be  room  for  penitence, 
for  gratitude,  for  renunciation  of  all  self-righ- 
teousness. Then,  may  trust  in  a  Redeemer, 


284  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

and  well-grounded  confidence  of  acceptance  with 
Heaven,  be  the  soul's  incorruptible  armour,  as 
we 

•'Walk  thoughtful  on  the  silent,  solemn  shore, 
Of  that  vast  Ocean  we  must  sail  BO  soon." 


DEATH.  285 


LETTER    XXIV. 

DEATH. 

THERE  is  a  subject,  which,  perhaps  more  than 
any  other,  is  presented  to  children  errroneously 
and  injuriously.  It  is  that  of  the  exchange  of 
worlds.  They  see  it  surrounded  with  every  ac- 
companiment of  gloom.  They  may  be  told  that 
the  soul  of  the  departed  friend  is  in  a  happier 
world.  But  they  witness  bitter  and  uncontroul- 
able  mourning,  and  the  evidence  of  their  senses 
overpowers  the  lifeless  precept.  Fear  of  death 
takes  possession  of  them,  before  they  can  compre- 
hend the  faith  which  looks  beyond  the  coffin,  the 
knell,  and  the  tomb:  so,  that  "all  their  life-time 
they  are  subject  to  bondage." 

Christians  err  in  not  speaking  to  each  other 
more  frequently  and  familiarly  of  death.  Teach- 
ers of  youth,  and  mothers,  should  not  hesitate  to 
make  it  the  theme  of  their  discourse.  And  when 
they  do  so,  let  them  divest  their  brow  of  gloom, 
and  their  tone  of  sadness.  While  they  mingle  it 
with  solemnity,  they  should  soften  it  from  terror, 
lest  they  bow  down  the  tender  mind,  like  those 


2«b  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

heavy  rains,  which  wash  away  the  bloom  of  the 
unfolding  flower. 

I  once  attended  a  funeral  in  a  remote  village 
of  Moravians.  It  was  in  the  depth  of  summer. 
Every  little  garden  put  forth  beauty,  and  every 
tree  was  heavy  with  fresh,  cool  verdure. 

It  was  a  Sabbath  afternoon,  when  a  dead  in- 
fant was  brought  into  the  church.  The  children 
of  the  small  congregation  wished  to  sit  near  it, 
and  fixed  their  eyes  upon  its  placid  brow,  as  on 
a  fair  piece  of  sculpture.  The  sermon  of  the 
clergyman  was  to  them.  It  was  a  paternal  ad- 
dress, humbling  itself  to  their  simplicity,  yet  lofty, 
through  the  deep,  sonorous  tones  of  their  native 
German.  Earnestly  and  tenderly  they  listened, 
as  he  told  them  how  the  baby  went  from  its 
mother's  arms  to  those  of  the  compassionate  Re- 
deemer. When  the  worship  closed,  and  the  pro- 
cession was  formed,  the  children,  two  and  two, 
followed  the  mourners,  leading  each  other  by  the 
hand,  the  little  girls  clothed  in  white. 

The  place  of  slumber  for  the  dead,  was  near 
the  church,  where  they  had  heard  of  Je§us.  It 
was  a  green,  beautiful  knoll,  on  which  the  sun, 
drawing  towards  the  west,  lingered  with  a  smile 
of  blessing.  The  turf  had  the  richness  of  velvet, 
not  a  weed  or  a  straw  defaced  it.  Every  swell- 
ing mound  was  planted  with  flowers,  and  a  kind 
of  aromatic  thyme,  thickly  clustering,  and  almost 


DEATH.  287 

shutting  over  the  small,  horizontal  tomb-stones, 
which  recorded  only  the  name  and  date  of  the 
deceased.  In  such  a  spot,  so  sweet,  so  lowly,  so 
secluded,  the  clay  might  willingly  wait  its  re- 
union with  the  spirit. 

Before  the  corpse,  walked  the  young  men  of 
the  village,  bearing  instruments  of  music.  They 
paused  at  the  gate  of  the  place  of  burial.  Then 
a  strain  from  voice  and  flute,  rose,  subdued  and 
tremulous,  like  the  strings  of  the  wind-harp.  It 
seemed  as  if  a  timid,  yet  prevailing  suppliant, 
sought  admission  to  the  ancient  city  of  the  dead. 

The  gate  unclosed.  As  they  slowly  wound 
around  the  gentle  ascent,  to  the  open  grave,  the 
Pastor,  with  solemn  intonation,  repeated  passages 
from  the  Book  of  God.  Thrilling,  beyond  ex- 
pression, amid  the  silence  of  the  living,  and  the 
slumber  of  the  dead,  were  the  blessed  words  of 
our  Saviour,  "I  am  the  resurrection  and  the 
life." 

He  ceased,  and  all  gathered  round  the  brink 
of  the  pit.  The  little  ones  drew  near,  and  look- 
ed downwards  into  its  depths,  sadly,  but  with- 
out fear.  Then  came  a  burst  of  music,  swelling 
higher  and  higher,  till  it  seemed  no  longer  of 
earth.  Methought  it  was  the  welcome  in  heav- 
en, to  the  innocent  spirit,  the  joy  of  angels  over 
a  new  immortal,  that  had  never  sinned.  Wrap- 
ped, as  it  were,  in  that  glorious  melody,  the  little 


288  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

body  was  let  down  to  its  narrow  cell.  And  all 
grief,  even  the  parent's  grief,  was  swallowed  up, 
in  that  high  triumph-strain.  Devotion  was  there, 
giving  back  what  it  loved,  to  the  God  of  love, 
not  with  tears,  but  with  music.  Faith  was  there, 
standing  among  flowers,  and  restoring  a  bud  to 
the  Giver,  that  it  might  bloom  in  a  garden  which 
could  never  fade. 

Will  those  children  ever  forget  the  lesson  learn- 
ed at  that  infant's  grave?  When  I  looked  on 
their  sweet,  serious  faces,  as  they  walked  lov- 
ingly from  the  place  of  tombs,  I  thought  they 
felt,  what  those  of  grey  hairs  are  often  "too 
slow  of  heart  to  believe,"  that  in  death,  there  is 
victory. 

In  order  to  give  to  those  whom  we  instruct, 
cheering  and  consoling  views  of  Death,  we  must 
correct  our  own.  We  must  make  it  the  subject 
of  daily  contemplation,  praying  for  divine  grace, 
to  consider  it  as  the  consummation  of  our  highest 
hope,  the  end  for  which  we  wiere  bom,  the  sum- 
mons to  arise,  and  take  upon  us  the  nature  of 
angels.  We  have  seen,  or  read,  with  what  calm- 
ness the  righteous  have  passed  away.  Some- 
times, scarce  a  feature  has  been  changed,  a 
thought  ruffled,  in  the  transition.  Beda,  while  dic- 
tating from  the  Bible,  to  his  disciples,  put  his 
hand  into  the  hand  of  death,  and  scarcely  felt  its 
coldness.  Herder  was  writing  a  hymn  to  the 


DEATH.  289 

Deity,  with  his  pen  upon  the  last  line,  when  he 
passed  into   his   presence. 

We  should  not  shun  the  chamber  of  the  dying. 
The  bed  on  which  they  lie,  is  the  teacher  of 
wisdom,  both  solemn  and  sublime.  The  pious 
Margaret,  mother  of  king  Henry  7th,  maintained 
under  her  own  roof,  a  number  of  poor  persons. 
She  supplied  their  wants,  and  consoled  them  in 
sickness,  and  in  pain.  Especially  would  she  be 
always  by  their  side,  at  then*  death,  and  attend 
them  to  their  grave.  Being  asked,  why  she  thus 
voluntarily  exposed  herself  to  such  scenes  of  sad- 
ness, she  replied,  "that  I  may  learn  how  to 
die." 

The  Almighty  has  surrounded  Death,  with 
many  circumstances  of  dread,  that  the  rash  and 
thoughtless  might  not  rush  upon  it,  when  harrow- 
ed up  by  disappointment,  or  disgusted  at  the 
world.  The  heathen  in  his  ignorance,  and  the 
sinner  in  his  guilt,  alike  tremble  at  its  approach. 
But  the  Christian  should  neither  shrink  back  from 
the  last  messenger,  nor  grieve  bitterly  for  those 
friends  who  are  called  before  him.  Nature's  tear 
at  parting,  cannot  be  restrained.  Yet  let  no  vio- 
lent and  bitter  sorrow  visit  the  death-bed  of  the 
Christian.  It  is  a  Pagan  sentiment.  It  should 
find  no  place  near  their  pillow,  for  whom  Christ 
died.  While  we  mourn,  the  happy,  unfettered 
spirit  traverses  a  celestial  region.  It  has  attain- 
25 


290  LETTERS    TO   MOTHERS. 

ed  a  purer  existence.  By  a  voice,  which  our 
earthly  ear  might  not  hear,  God  called  it,  and 
it  arose,  and  put  off  its  cumbrous  garments,  that 
it  might  perfectly  do  his  will.  An  invisible  hand 
drew  it  within  the  casement  of  the  ark.  Why 
should  we,  who  still  ride  the  billows,  and  bide 
the  storm,  lament  for  the  bark  that  hath  found 
a  secure  shelter?  a  haven  from  whence  it  shall 
go  forth  no  more?  Why  should  we  forget  to 
give  glory  to  God,  for  having  taken  to  unchang- 
ing bliss,  the  friend  whom  we  loved? 

Death,  to  the  suffering  body,  and  the  willing 
soul,  is  the  herald  of  release.  Its  terrors,  for 
surely  it  hath  terrors,  arise  from  other  sources : 
from  tilings  left  undone,  that  ought  to  have  been 
done,  and  from  things  done,  that  ought  not  to 
have  been  done.  Let  us  guard  against  these 
fearful  evils,  now  in  the  time  of  health  and  hope, 
and  live  every  day,  as  if  it  were  to  be  our  last 
on  earth.  When  disappointments  press  on  the 
spirit,  and  the  world  seems  joyless,  some  have 
mistaken  this  despondence  for  resignation  to  death. 
But  the  repining,  with  which  we  look  on  the 
cloud,  or  the  tempest,  or  the  broken  idol,  is  not 
the  principle  which  will  bear  us  triumphantly 
through  the  dark  valley.  It  is  possible  to  be 
weary  of  life,  and  yet  unwilling  to  die.  Faith- 
ful duty,  and  daily  penitence,  and  prayerful  trust, 
are  the  safest  armour  for  those,  who  know  not 


DEATH.  291 

at  what  hour  they  may  be  summoned.  "Do 
all  things,  as  if  you  were  to  die  to-morrow," 
said  a  writer  of  antiquity.  Thus,  Death,  com- 
ing as  a  guest,  long  prepared  for,  may  be  both 
welcomed  by  us,  and  bear  to  us  the  welcome 
of  angels. 

We  pay  deference  to  good  teachers.  We  de- 
sire to  secure  the  benefits  of  their  wisdom  for 
ourselves  and  for  our  children.  But  who  teaches 
like  Death?  Who  like  him  reveals  character? 
and  unveils  motives  which  had  lain  for  many 
years  in  a  locked  casket?  and  strips  the  illusion 
from  the  things  which  men  covet?  and  makes  us 
feel  our  own  pitiable  weakness,  in  not  being  able 
to  soften  the  last  pang  for  those  we  love  ?  "  The 
sun  is  best  seen  at  his  rising  and  setting,"  says 
Boyle;  "so  men's  native  dispositions  are  most 
clearly  perceived  while  they  are  children,  and 
when  they  come  to  die."  Though  the  chamber, 
where  the  man  of  wealth  meets  his  doom,  dis- 
plays every  comfort  and  luxury  that  art  can  de- 
vise, who  can  behold  the  almost  infantine  help- 
lessness of  their  possessor,  without  a  new  and 
deep  feeling  of  the  poverty  of  all  costly  things, 
the  silk,  the  velvet,  and  the  silver,  which  so  many 
envy,  and  for  which  some  sell  their  souls  ?  Truly 
they  seem  as  the  "small  dust  of  the  balance," 
when  he  may  not  reach  out  a  hand  to  touch 
them,  or  even  bestow  a  glance  upon  them,  for  a 


292  LETTERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

heavy  business  absorbs  him,  and  time  is  for  him 
no  longer,  and  his  soul  is  demanded,  and  must 
go  forth,  to  give  account  of  itself,  and  of  the  use 
it  has  made  of  those  treasures  from  which  it 
parts. 

We  should  consider  the  goodness  of  God,  in 
giving  to  our  wearied  frames  the  repose  of  the 
grave.  The  dim  eye  seeks  a  long  sleep.  The 
ear  rests  from  the  toil  of  gathering  sounds.  The 
lip  grows  silent.  The  limbs  cease  from  their 
labour.  The  senses,  those  reporters  of  the  mind, 
resign  their  office.  In  the  citadel  of  life,  the 
sentinels  slumber.  The  red  fluid,  so  long  circu- 
lating through  its  thousand  channels,  stagnates. 
The  clay  fabric,  mysteriously  tenanted  by  the  un- 
resting spirit,  is  ready  to  dissolve.  "God  giveth 
his  beloved,  sleep." 

Let  not  the  couch  where  Nature  takes  her  last 
farewell,  be  troubled  by  demonstrations  of  undis- 
ciplined sorrow  from  those  who  surround  it. 
The  ill-judged  efforts  of  friends,  too  often  height- 
en the  suffering  they  would  fain  relieve.  Changes 
of  position,  fruitless  attempts  to  administer  medi- 
cine or  nourishment,  the  restless  ofliciousness  of 
grieving  affection,  distress  the  voyager  to  the 
world  of  spirits.  Even  a  heathen  emperor  could 
counsel  that  the  great  transition  should  be  made 
with  calmness.  "Thou  hast  taken  ship,  thou 
hast  sailed,  thou  hast  come  to  land.  Go  tran- 


DEATH.  293 

quilly  out  of  the  ship  into  another  life.  Are  not 
the  Gods  there?" 

Death,  physiologically  considered,  is  the  tend- 
ing of  the  mortal  part  to  its  appointed  and  need- 
ful rest.  It  is  not  probably  attended  by  the  ex- 
treme agony  with  which  imagination  invests  it. 
The  principle  of  consciousness  is  often  sooner 
released,  than  some  of  the  organs  on  which  it  has 
been  accustomed  to  act.  They  continue  a  part 
of  their  functions,  from  habit,  rather  than  voli- 
tion, as  the  strings  of  the  harp  may  vibrate  with 
a  prolonged  echo,  after  the  hand  that  swept  them 
has  departed;  so  that  the  friend,  on  whose  con- 
vulsions we  gaze,  is  sometimes  insensible  to  the 
pain  at  whose  indications  we  shudder. 

But,  admitting  that  the  pangs  of  death  trans- 
cend what  have  been  endured  through  life :  how 
brief  are  they,  how  unworthy  to  be  "compared 
to  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed."  May  we  not 
even  suppose  the  happiness  of  heaven  to  be 
heightened  by  the  contrast?  The  deep  darkness 
of  the  shadowy  vale,  yielding  to  a  day  which 
knows  no  night,  the  sharp  severance  of  body  and 
soul,  lost  in  those  pleasures  which  the  "heart  of 
man  hath  never  conceived,"  the  moans  of  disso- 
lution, exchanged  for  the  musick  of  cherubim  and 
seraphim,  the  tear  of  parting  from  earthly  friends, 
forgotten  in  the  greeting  of  the  "spirits  of  the 
just  made  perfect,"  what  is  there  in  the  whole 
25* 


294  LETTERS    TO    MOTHERS. 

ran^e  of  material  things  that  can  furnish  type  or 
shadow  of  such  a  contrast?  Was  it  not  in  the 
mind  of  the  eloquent  Pascal,  when  he  said,  "the 
glory  of  our  faith  shines  with  much  greater  bright- 
ness, by  our  passing  to  immortality,  through  the 
shades  of  death." 

How  many  instances  have  we  known,  of  not 
merely  a  calm  departure,  but  a  joyful  translation 
to  the  realms  of  bliss.  A  pious  clergyman  of 
Scotland  had  lived  to  a  venerable  old  age.  One 
morning,  after  breakfasting  with  his  family,  he 
reclined  a  while  in  his  chair,  silently  meditating. 
Suddenly  he  spoke,  "Daughter,  hark!  doth  not 
my  Master  call  me?"  Asking  for  his  Bible,  he 
perceived  that  his  eyes  were  dim,  and  he  could 
no  longer  read  its  precious  words.  "  Find  for 
me,"  said  he,  "  the  eighth  chapter  of  Romans,  and 
lay  my  finger  on  the  passage,  'I  am  persuaded 
that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  angels,  nor  prin- 
cipalities, nor  powers,  nor  things  present,  nor 
things  to  come,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any 
other  creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from 
the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our 
Lord.'  Now  is  my  finger  placed  upon  these 
blessed  words?"  Being  assured  that  it  was,  he 
said,  "Then  God  bless  you,  God  bless  you  all, 
dear  children.  I  have  refreshed  myself  with  you 
this  morning,  and  shall  be  at  the  banquet  of  my 
Saviour  ere  it  is  night."  And  thus  he  died. 


DEATH.  295 

Another  pious  man,  who  had  practised  daily 
reading  and  explanation  of  the  Scriptures  in  his 
family,  continued  it  during  his  last  illness.  Once, 
while  remarking  upon  a  chapter,  he  suddenly 
exclaimed,  "What  brightness  do  I  see?  Have 
you  lighted  any  candles?"  They  replied  that 
they  had  not,  for  it  was  a  summer's  afternoon, 
and  the  twilight  had  not  yet  come.  Then,  in  a 
clear,  glad  voice,  he  said,  "  now,  farewell,  world ! 
and  welcome,  heaven!  for  the  day-star  from  on 
high  hath  visited  me.  Oh,  speak  it  when  I  am 
gone,  and  tell  it  at  my  funeral,  that  God  dealeth 
familiarly  with  man.  I  feel  his  mercy,  I  see  his 
majesty;  whether  in  the  body,  or  out  of  the  body, 
I  cannot  tell:  God  knoweth.  But  I  behold  things 
unutterable."  And,  filled  with  joy,  he  expired. 

Once,  when  Spring  had  begun  to  quicken  the 
swelling  buds,  a  fair  form  that  was  wont  to  linger 
among  them,  came  not  forth  from  her  closely- 
curtained  chamber.  She  was  beautiful  and  young, 
but  Death  had  come  for  her.  His  purple  tinge 
was  upon  her  brow.  The  lungs  moved  feebly, 
and  with  a  gasping  sound.  It  would  seem  that 
speech  had  forsaken  her.  The  mother  bent  over 
her  pillow.  She  was  her  only  one.  Earnestly 
she  besought  her  for  one  word,  "only  one  more 
word,  my  beloved."  It  was  in  vain. 

Yet  again,  the  long  fringes  of  her  blue  eyes 
opened,  and  what  a  bursting  forth  of  glorious 


296  LETTERS   TO   MOTHERS. 

joy!  They  were  raised  upward,  they  expanded, 
as  though  the  soul  would  spring  from  them  in 
extasy.  Then,  there  was  a  whispering  of  the 
pale  lips.  The  mother  knelt  down,  and  covered 
her  face.  She  knew  that  the  darling  whom  she 
had  brought  into  the  world,  was  to  be  offered  up. 

But  there  was  one,  deep,  sweet,  harp-like  ar- 
ticulation, "praise."  And  all  was  over.  Then, 
from  that  kneeling  mother,  came  the  same  tremu- 
lous word,  "jjraise."  Yet  there  was  an  ashy 
paleness  on  her  brow,  and  they  laid  her,  faint- 
ing, by  the  side  of  the  breathless  and  beautiful. 
There  she  revived,  and  finished  the  sentence  that 
the  young  seraph  had  begun,  "praise  ye  the 
Lord."  The  emotions  of  that  death-scene  were 
too  sublimated  for  tears. 

More  surely  might  we  hope  thus  to  part  with 
our  dear  ones,  and  thus  to  die  in  Jesus,  did  we, 
in  our  brief  probation,  live  near  him,  and  for  him. 

Mothers,  while  we  guard  with  solicitude,  for 
our  children,  the  principle  of  life,  so  wonderful 
in  its  infusion,  so  solemn  in  its  departure,  so 
mysterious  in  the  modes  of  its  future,  disem- 
bodied existence,  let  us  nurse  in  them,  with  equal 
vigilance,  that  faith  which  turns  the  pang  of 
separation  into  praise,  and  lights  the  paleness  of 
death  with  a  smile  of  glory. 

Approaching  the  close  of  thoughts  which  it 
has  been  so  pleasant  both  to  cherish  and  to  ex- 


DEATH.  297 


press,  I  hope  it  may  not  be  imagined  that  this 
simple  volume  arrogates  aught  of  oracular  wis- 
dom. It  is  but  as  the  basket,  into  which  a  few 
flowers  have  fallen,  a  few  fruits  been  gathered,  as 
I  pursued  my  pilgrim-way. 

Friends,  who  have  here  with  me  meditated  on 
many  duties,  and  on  the  event  that  terminates 
them,  dear  friends,  whom  I  shall  never  see  in  the 
flesh,  may  we  meet  in  the  vestments  of  immor- 
tality. With  those  whom  we  have  given  birth, 
and  nurtured,  and  borne  upon  our  prayers,  in  the 
midnight  watch,  and  at  the  morning  dawn,  may 
we  stand,  not  one  lost,  a  glorious  company,  where 
is  neither  shade  of  infirmity,  or  sigh  of  penitence, 
or  fear  of  change,  but  where  "affection's  cup 
hath  lost  the  taste  of  tears." 


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